Just This
by Jessie Marsh
Summary: Sequel to "Waking With You". Sandra and Strickland continue their fledgling relationship as tensions rise in the UCOS arena.
1. Prologue

**Just This**

Sequel to _New Tricks_ fanfiction, Waking With You by Jessie Marsh

**Author's Note**

This is a sequel of sorts to the story _Waking With You_. Sandra and Strickland have began a tentative relationship following the shock of Jack's death. Brian feels isolated by the new fast-formed friendship of Steve and Gerry. The material of cases will be abandoned in this fic with the hopeful outcome of a more focused and character driven narrative.

**Prologue**

Snow flew past the windows of the cottage in South Wales. Kneeling on the sofa in front of the window and watching it, Sandra was transfixed as a child watching the flakes of white twirl and dance in the wind. Rob's car was already covered, looking like a peculiar shaped dune in a snow desert.

"It's not getting any better, is it?" he asked.

She turned to see him coming toward her holding two glasses of a deep red wine. She took the glass he offered her and turned back to the vista outside as he leant forward to see the landscape in its winter coat. Their long-weekend break had turned into a scene from a greetings card.

"It slowed down for a bit, but then it really started coming down," she informed him. "Good job we weren't planning to go out!"

"No," he said thoughtfully. He sat down on the sofa next to her as she twisted and sat on her ankles. He smiled.

"What?"

He shrugged and took a sip of his wine. "Come here," he gestured.

She smiled back and changed her position again to lay her legs over his and snuggle into chest as he lifted his arm. It had become their favourite attitude; giving to both of them comfort, security and warmth. It had been just three weeks since the inopportune kiss in the UCOS office, one week after a mutual agreement that a relationship between them was unquestionable. The years of solitude that each had become accustomed to; Rob's adjustment to becoming a grandfather and the loss of Sandra's mentor and good friend Jack Halford; had seemed the factors that would keep them apart despite the one night they had shared together. It had been the thought of losing her during a deep and dangerous undercover operation that had pushed Rob Strickland to the edge of reason enough to kiss her; and the realisation that despite all she thought she had lost, there was someone who still mattered to her, that had shocked her enough to kiss him back, that had brought them to their current situation.

"This is a very comfortable sofa," he murmured into her hair.

"Not a patch on yours," she grinned, reminding him of their deep and meaningful discussion as to the sleepability of the three seater sofa in what had formerly been his batchelor pad but was now becoming over-run with feminine touches courtesy of his daughter and grand-daughter. Surprisingly, he found that the small additions of Sandra's essentials which she kept at his for practicality, did not detract from the composition he had previously created. It felt right. Though there was one complication he could not avoid.

"Are the boys alright, about us?" he asked softly.

"Has Gerry stopped teasing you mean?" she eyed him thoughtfully, ready to take the more playful or more serious route as the conversation required. "They don't really have a choice," she added quietly. Gerry hadn't taken to it well. It had surprised her really, she'd have expected Brian to give her the cold shoulder: he had a long track-record of reacting badly to change. Yet it had been Gerry to become distant and irritable, deliberately volunteering for tasks that separated him from her and speaking sparsely about work when they were alone together. Steve and Brian had tried for the first week to purposefully leave them together so that they could talk and clear the air, but to little avail. It saddened her, to think that she was losing Gerry as a friend simply because she had gained a lover. She tried to tell herself that he was behaving childishly; throwing his toys out of the pram because she didn't have as much attention for him as she previously had. She tried telling herself it was only temporary, that he'd come back soon. She couldn't believe it though.

The look in the back of her eyes told him that everything he suspected was true. He couldn't expect her team to embrace their relationship with open arms, however much they might both wish that to be the case. Gerry in particular he knew was uncomfortable with it. Whenever he came near the UCOS office he could tell that there was an unspoken tension and that it was to do with him and Sandra. But, somehow they would be able to sort it out.

They both knew that it ought to be too soon to think that this was a permanent situation, but they knew too that neither of them wanted it to end. Over the years they had grown to know each other. There had been moments between them that had passed without reaction. What catalysts had brought them to this precipice they couldn't count or qualify but they would thank them if they could. As Rob gathered her in his arms and kissed her gently, she reciprocated.

Things had changed so quickly, little could they know how much more was to come.


	2. Back to Work

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! Jessie xx_

**Back to Work**

"Urgh, you are kidding me?" Robert grumbled as the alarm went off on the wrong side of nine o' clock. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he gently removed his arm from Sandra's sleepy clasp and rolled toward the offending noise.

"Make it go away," she mumbled in agreement, moaning as he pulled away. "Cold…"

They'd made it back quite late the previous night, the snow in Wales having slowed the initial part of their already lengthy journey. By the time they'd unpacked the car, reluctantly agreeing that it wouldn't do it by itself and that they wouldn't want to be bothering with it in the morning, half a glass of wine and a bath had seen them both into bed, even more reluctantly setting the alarm clock.

"Come on," Robert growled softly.

"I know…" she agreed, still trying to bury her head in the pillow that she didn't want to leave.

"Not you, bloody time," he smiled lazily. "Why can't it just leave us alone?"

"Mmm," she rolled over and allowed him to replace some of the covers around her with his arms.

Neither of them spoke for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of waking with each other. Then, as always, came time's interruption again. Though it had, on this occasion, the slightly more welcome scent of coffee accompanying it.

"Are you awake?" followed a knock at the door. Added to which came, "And decent?"

Sandra grinned at Robert as she forced herself off his chest.

"Yes," she called.

"Never!" Robert cried simultaneously as his daughter opened the door.

"Morning," Mia raised her eyebrow, deciding to ignore her father's jibe. "Coffee's on. Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes, thank you, love," Robert pulled on his dressing gown as he stood up. He walked over to his daughter and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Did we wake you when we got back?"

"No," she shook her head. "What time did you get in?"

"Late," Sandra grumbled, swinging her legs out of the bed.

Mia let out a small laugh. "Well Bella woke up at eleven and went back down at twelve, so I was spark out 'til she woke up at six."

Robert grinned at the thought of his granddaughter. "Is she awake now?"

"Yeah, I was just about to get her up," Mia paused and added with a cheeky tone. "Unless you'd like to do the honours? Pops?"

Robert happily disappeared out of the room; the happy mumbling noises that met the girls' ears moments later told them that grandfather and granddaughter were reunited after the weekend apart.

"Have you had a good weekend?" Sandra asked as she rubbed her eyes. "Did your aunt come over?"

"No thank god," Mia answered. "We went for lunch on Saturday. She moaned about everything!"

"Where did you go?"

"Just Barnaby's," Mia replied. "The usual. Then I met up with Tan and did a bit of shopping, came back here and just chilled for the rest of the day. Sunday, nothing much, went for a walk round the park but its just been so cold!"

"Mmm, it snowed where we were. That's why we were so late back," Sandra agreed. "It's nice and warm in here."

"Warmer in bed," Mia grumbled, then blushed as she realised what she had just implied to her dad's girlfriend. "Do you want some toast? Or I've got some of those chocolate croissants in?"

"Toast would be great," Sandra smiled politely as she had also noticed the girl's faux pas. "Thanks."

Mia gratefully left the room leaving Sandra shaking her head in amusement that hadn't dissipated by the time Robert returned having deposited Bella at the breakfast table.

"What's funny?" he asked in dazed confusion as he watched her pulling on her jeans. It was moments like this that usually made him envious that she was a plain-clothes detective who could wear jeans to work. Knowing the number of meetings he had to see to that morning, casual was not something he was going to get away with.

"Nothing," she pulled the zip on her jeans and turned her attention to finding something that wouldn't require any attention from an iron. She still felt ridiculously tired, the sort of tired that made her doubt her ability to remember how an iron might work. "Just your daughter suggesting that bed is the warmest place to be."

"And why is that…?" Robert drifted off as he stared at a wardrobe of suits, casually wondering if one of them would just like to apply itself to his body to save him the task and effort.

"Well, after she said it she remembered that the person she'd said it to spends most of their time in bed with her father," Sandra snuck her arms around his waist and played with the cord of his dressing gown.

"Oh…" he replied in dawning realisation.

"The grey one," she grinned as she successfully loosened the tie and pulled the dressing down away from him.

"No fair!" he protested. "Cold!"

"White shirt, blue tie," she added as her hand found the door handle. "Mia was right though, it's warmer in bed – you shouldn't have made us get up!"

Forty-five minutes later, with the family breakfasted and the younger members dropped off at their respective morning locations; Bella at the child-minders and Mia at college; Robert pulled up outside the station. Sandra's car was visible in the background where she had left it parked on Thursday night, Gerry's Stag just parking next to it. She sighed.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked sympathetically.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted. "If any of them… I was expecting Brian to throw a complete wobbly on me. But Gerry… I never thought I'd lose him."

"Maybe, it's all been a bit quick?" Robert suggested tentatively. "I mean, us two, so soon after Jack…"

She shook her head. The subject of Jack's death, although a topic they had often touched on in conversation, was still one that was too recent and too painful for her to think about in any great depth. "I thought he was happy for us," she laughed. "Though god only knows why I thought that! Anyway, it's not your problem. Thank you for a wonderful weekend," she leant over the handbrake and kissed him. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. He knew that she wasn't really brushing the situation under the carpet, but recognised that it was something that she had to deal with in her own time and in her own way. "I'll come down about half-twelve?"

"Unless something crops up," she grimaced. There was a vague plan that today was just a review day, tedious pouring over case files trying to find a new lead, angle or element of interest. His initial words of organising cases according to chances of success and such-like had evaporated like steam off a hot-tub; it was still a matter of something seeming interesting as far as her team were concerned. Though she would err on the side of caution in saying that that was how the day would pan out in reality.


	3. Very Rarely Late

_Hiya! Sorry to be absent for so long, work and life have been keeping me away from writing, grr! Anyway, here is the next part of the story! Hope you enjoy, sorry it's a bit long and nothing-y but it will .. I dunno, enjoy!_

_Jessie xx_

**Very Rarely Late**

"Morning Guv," Steve greeted her as she walked into the UCOS office, while Gerry she noted barely looked up from his desk. "Nice weekend?"

"Lovely, thank you," she replied, her eye still half-drawn to her distant friend. "Where's Brian?"

Steve shrugged. "Not in yet. Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes, thank you," she frowned slightly as she passed Brian's desk on the way to her office. Brian was, as she had once defended him, very rarely late. It would seem that today was one of those rare occasions. She dropped her bag on the desk and leant over to press the button that would fire her computer into life. Hanging her coat up on the hook, she returned to the main office. "Did you go up to Glasgow in the end?" she asked as Steve made three mugs of coffee.

"Aye, Charlie managed to get off work about nine on Saturday, so we had Sunday out, bloody cold though."

"Hmm," she agreed. "It snowed in Wales. Did you have a nice weekend, Gerry?"

Gerry looked up and, with an effort, did not scowl. It was bad enough, he thought, that he hadn't spent his Friday night in his usual way – getting pissed with Steve and Sandra – so that Saturday didn't actually have to start until it was time to take Little Gerry to football; but to be asked in such a polite, small-talk, manner… Try as he might, he couldn't shake off his jealous feelings that Sandra now had someone else to spend time with. It wasn't that he resented her being happy, or even very much that it was Strickland who filled that role; it was simply that he couldn't spend as much time with her. And because he had been stupid and selfish and more than a little childish about it, now she asked about his weekend as if she had to. "Yeah, thanks," he replied, managing with extreme concentration to not sound petty.

Steve fixed his face on neutral and delivered the coffees to his desk and her hands before taking his own and perching on the back of his chair. He still hadn't moved from the red corner of the office; occasionally he made use of the computer on Jack's desk, but his favourite thing about UCOS was definitely that he didn't have to sit at a desk if he didn't want to. His least favourite thing was the atmosphere between Gerry and Sandra. It wasn't so bad when Brian was around too, the two warring parties seemed less inclined to be vicious to each other when he was there. But today, for whatever reason, the Northerner was conspicuous by his absence and Steve was left with the task of trying to keep the peace. They weren't being openly nasty to each other; it was just … not as it had been.

"Right," Sandra took a sip of the coffee which for some reason didn't taste as nice as it usual did. Strange, she thought to herself, she hadn't enjoyed her morning brew that much either. Anyway. "Archives have sent down a dozen or so files to add to the pile so I suggest we split them up and make a start. Keep an eye out for the usual; any active villains, ongoing cases, new evidence. Relations are shipping down their latest pile of contacts, so cross-reference those. Right," she sighed. "Let's get going. Brian can catch up when he gets in."

She looked at the pile of files on the table and grimaced. The sooner they found a case, the better. She moved over to the table and sorted them into four piles. "Gerry, can you print out the list from Relations when it comes through?"

"Sure," he replied shortly, as he pushed against his desk and fished in his pocket for his cigarettes. "Back in five."

"Ok," she said automatically, picking up a pile and turning away to return to her office. She thought about leaving her coffee on the table, then decided to take it with her anyway; she might fancy it when it cooled a bit. Though normally she liked it when it was still hot enough to steam open envelopes.

Steve watched as his colleagues dispersed and sighed as he chose one probably insignificant pile from the others. Returning to his chair, he felt about in his pocket for his music player and headphones. Relaxing, he spent the next five minutes untangling the wires (how did that happen? He'd wrapped them perfectly around the player not twenty minutes previous) before settling in for the morning.

After what felt like half her life, but in reality was only an hour and a half, Sandra leant back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair. Nothing had caught her eye in the half a dozen case files that she'd been through. Casually, her mind wandered to what dinner would be. Mia had done a basic shop for them; milk, bread and croissants, but they would have to do a full shop in the next couple of days. The wine cupboard was worryingly sparse also. That ruled out shopping before work. Sighing, she reached her gaze to her window into the main office. She really wanted to try and make that pork dish she'd seen on the telly over the weekend while Rob had been in the bathroom. Realising that she still hadn't heard Brian come in, she frowned. Picking up her mobile, she checked for any messages before picking up the files from her desk and returning to the main office where Gerry and Steve were quietly reading, Steve tapping his fingers against his knee to the music that he was listening to.

"Alright?" she asked to get their attention. "Brian still not in?"

"No," Gerry replied flatly as if she'd asked the stupidest question in the world. Which, seeing as how Brian was clearly not in the room, it probably was.

"Have you rang him?" she asked, not in the mood for his childish retorts.

He looked at her, vaguely gathering the situation. It wasn't worth causing a row. "No answer at home," he admitted quietly that he'd already tried Brian's house number not ten minutes ago. "And the stupid sod doesn't have a mobile, does he?" There was no malice in his rhetorical question, he'd gotten used to Brian over the last ten years and all his strange foibles. He'd gotten used to a lot of things.

"I'll try Esther's mobile," Sandra scrolled down her contacts.

"I'll stick the kettle on," Steve stood up, leaving the file he'd been looking at last open on top of the pile on the coffee table.

Gerry couldn't help stifling a laugh into a snort at Steve's aid into the 'where's Brian' saga. To which Sandra couldn't help suppressing a smile as she held her phone to her ear, listening to the tone ring out. "Hmm," her frown deepened. "Voicemail."

"Maybe they're busy," Steve offered helpfully.

Gerry and Sandra looked at each other. For a second, each of them felt some remnants of the sense of humour they used to share. "I'll try the house again," Gerry broke the connection, reaching for the phone on his desk. He wasn't ready.

Sandra held in a sigh and looked absently around the office, hoping for something for her mind to latch on to until she could find the words to save the situation between her and Gerry. Her eye came to rest on the file that Steve had left open. "Have you found anything there, Steve?"

"Aye," Steve lifted the now boiled kettle and topped up the three mugs. "Professor Henry Albert. Suspicious death at a dinner party."

"Suspicious how?"

Steve shrugged. "That's what they never figured out. But there's a name that cropped up, Simon Tesla, author, read his obituary the other week in the paper. Albert was mentioned."

"Ok," she glanced at her phone as it flashed that she had a message from Rob. "Put it on the board. Thanks." She received her coffee from Steve as she read the message cancelling lunch. "Damn," she cursed quietly.

"Brian?" Steve asked as he lifted the file from where he had left it to start writing up the details.

"No, just, I was …"

"Meeting Robert for lunch, but he's got a meeting," Gerry filled in, putting the slightest emphasis on his boss' boyfriend as he could resist.

"Yeah," she muttered, offering the lightest hint of acknowledging sarcasm to her voice as was humanly possible.

Steve bit his tongue and turned to the board. He couldn't quite fathom Gerry's hostility towards Sandra's relationship. And he wasn't getting involved. If he could possibly help it. So he contented himself with filling the white board with the bare bones of the case of suspicious death and case photographs of the principle individual's involved. By the time Sandra had decided that there was definitely something wrong with coffee today and Gerry had consumed his, been for a cigarette and returned; he had completed his graffiti and presented the case to his two colleagues, who agreed that it was indeed an interesting conundrum. They were just beginning to decide on the next actions to take when they were interrupted by the arrival of their missing partner.

"Brian!" Sandra exclaimed as the elusive detective walked through the door to the office nearly three hours after he would usually arrive. "Where have you been? Where's your bike?" her eyes narrowed as she observed the absence of his transport.

"Esther gave me a lift," he said quietly, crossing the department floor to reach his desk where he went about his routine; taking off his lucky overcoat, hanging it on its hanger and replacing the hanger in its customary position.

"Where have you been, mate?" Gerry repeated Sandra's first question after an exchanged glance between them; something wasn't right. Brian was a stickler for routine.

"Eh? Oh, er, doctors," Brian mumbled barely making eye contact with either of them as he lifted the lid on his laptop and switched the machine on.

"Do you want a coffee?" Steve pushed on the arms of his chair and went to their coffee station to fill the kettle again.

"Er, yes please," Brian cast his eye over the board. "So, what's this?"

Sandra looked at Gerry who offered a small shrug to her silent question; her eyes returned to Brian who despite studying everything Steve had already pinned to the board, did not seem to be registering any of it. The file forgotten in her hand, grew heavy in disuse and she placed it on the coffee table. "It's just a new case," she said. "Brian? Is something wrong?"

They watched as he cast his eyes towards Steve then back to Sandra. She nodded, understanding in some way. Gerry cast his eyes to his feet; Steve would never replace Jack, not for Brian.

"No," he said firmly. "It's nothing," he added, aware as he always was of Steve's presence. "So, new case? This looks interesting," he pointed at the map that had been annotated with literary references in the hand of some past investigator.

"Yes," Sandra picked up the file from the coffee table and pulled out the case notes. "Professor Henry Albert, lecturer of English and American Studies at Hull University, suspicious death at a dinner party during a symposium in London, summer of 1987. These references point to other places he had visited over the previous ten years, other places where other dinner deaths have occurred."

"So, cheers Steve," Gerry accepted the brew handed to him. "He goes to dinner in ten places over ten years, each has some literary significance, and in each there is a mysterious death at the dinner table?"

"Not always mysterious," Sandra corrected him. "A lot of them were never investigated at all, the heart attack in Nottingham, the food poisoning at Edinburgh, most of these deaths were just treated as unfortunate events. The only factor tying them together is the presence of Albert."

"So, he was either killed by someone who worked this out, or killed himself in some homage to what he'd done?" Steve asked incredulously.

Sandra shrugged. "Or he just happened to be at the same get-togethers as the person who was responsible. Steve, I'd like you to talk to the pathologist who worked on the case, this Martha Figgett; see what she can remember about the case. Gerry, Brian, I need the case files or whatever we can find on all the other deaths as well as the details about all these other dinner engagements and the guest lists for each one. Also, the obituary for Simon Tesla, as that's where Steve saw this professor's name."

Steve reached for his coat with one hand whilst grabbing the contact details for the pathologist with his other. "Alright, let's boogie," he said cheerfully. "See yous later."

"Bye Steve," Gerry and Sandra said in unison.

She waited to be sure that the Scotsman was well away before turning to the uncharacteristically silent Brian who was still staring unseeing at the board.

"Brian?" she prompted quietly.

The northerner sighed then turned from the board which he hadn't really been reading and offered his friends a small smile.

"What is it?" Sandra pressed. "The doctors?"

He nodded.

"Why were you at the doctors?" Sandra asked, deliberately suppressing her growing worry about his reluctant response and steeling herself to dislike the answer to her question.

"Esther," Brian said grimly.


	4. Brian's Sentence

_ok, so that was a really mean cliff-hanger! Thanks for the reviews! Jessie xx_

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**Brian's Sentence**

"What's…Esther?" Gerry tried to grasp at the facts, he hoped…he hoped. His mate wouldn't manage without his Esther, he knew that. He hoped.

Sandra stood similarly uneasy. Not only did she like Esther, she hated to think what losing her would do to Brian. She found herself wishing she hadn't asked where he'd been. Just believe that they'd lost track of time doing the shopping or something.

"She made me go," Brian explained calmly. There was no point in being over-dramatic. There wasn't anything that could be done. "I've been getting these headaches."

"Headaches?" Gerry's relief was short-lived as he heard Brian's words and his concern switched from one facet to another. He felt a bubble of anger start to well, he'd not noticed that anything was up with his mate. He'd been too busy being childish he supposed. But now, even if was too late, his attention was firmly fixed on the man in front of him.

"Yeah," Brian looked at his friends in turn, he didn't want either of them to worry unduly or react in any way really, it would be easier that way. "Turns out, it's an aneurism. Inoperable."

He watched as Gerry and Sandra looked at each other, shocked into silence at his delivery.

"So, I need to hand my notice in, Sandra," Brian tried not to allow himself to gage her reaction to his news. "I could carry on working, but…"

"Esther," she almost whispered immediately understanding.

"Esther," he offered another grim smile. Esther had been the only thing on his mind as the doctor had explained the situation. So much so that the lady herself had had to recall most of the peripheral information that the doctor had given them after reporting his diagnosis.

"It's ok, Brian, you don't have to explain," Sandra replied with a heartfelt but pitiful smile. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's not your fault."

Gerry who had lowered his gaze to the floor as he always did when bad news came lifted his head now. "That's bad news Brian."

Brian raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Well, I didn't think it was particularly good either," he held up a hand as Gerry bristled. "It's ok. I'll miss all this, of course. So, English and American Studies? These quotations look interesting. Shall I start on those?"

"Yes," Sandra shook herself mentally. "You do that, Gerry, can I have a quick word then you can start chasing up the other deaths."

"Sure," Gerry cringed. He glanced at Brian taking the map down from the board. There was nothing he could do but accept the situation. "I guess this means I'm gonna have to start filling in my timesheets properly, eh? Sorry, mate."

Brian glanced across and nodded with a smile before looking at and starting to identify the locations on the map.

Gerry left him to it and followed Sandra into her office. He closed the door behind him and faced her as she stood to one side, subtly angling the blinds.

"Look, if this is about my expenses?" he began, wary of the dubious petrol receipts he had collated over the year but fairly sure that this had nothing to do with them.

"What about them?" Sandra asked distractedly.

"Nothing," he replied. He watched her as she glanced between the window into the main offices and the floor. The rare, scared child-like side of her was trying to break through her professional demeanour. Somewhere deep inside of his own psyche stirred the whisperings of the sympathetic, protective reaction that he had toward her in these moments of vulnerability and fear.

She bit her lip. "It's all changing, isn't it?"

Every ounce of unconscious resentment and repression was gone. None of it mattered now. Sandra, his Sandra, was standing in front of him. He shrugged, carefully judging her mood. "It would've had to eventually," he said.

She nodded. She couldn't fault his assessment of the situation. She'd been lucky, this last ten years. Lucky and fortunate. UCOS had truly been a blessing for her, professionally and personally. It had given her work more purpose than she could have imagined and the opportunity to form three of the strongest friendships she had ever forged. True friendships too. And now it was all changing. As it would always have done.

"Hey, you could go for that promotion now," he added only half-joking as he fought to find someway of saying that it was alright, that they would both find ways of carrying on completely at ease knowing that one of their best friends was dying and not believing that for one second.

"What do you mean?" she asked quizzically. She knew that it was only half a joke on his part, just a way of trying to say that somehow this wouldn't be as painful as they both knew it was going to be.

"Look, Strickland can get another team together for UCOS, no problem. So the question is, would you stay? Without Jack, without Brian?" he asked.

"Without you?" she asked sharply, fixing him with a fierce stare. She didn't want it to change. She didn't want to lose everything that she had come to rely on in the last ten years.

He sighed. "Look, I'm old enough to retire now. Properly. Yeah, I've still got three ex-wives and four daughters. Not to mention a grandson. But, it's not like they rely on my wages as much as they did before. They've all got their own lives. And maybe, I want to be a part of them, while I still can."

"Like Brian and Esther?" her voice caught slightly in her throat. They both knew that Brian's decision to retire and spend the rest of his life with his wife was symbolic of how bad he felt for side-lining her all his years in the job.

Gerry pursed his lips. He respected Brian's decision. Esther was the most important thing in his eccentric colleague's life. It would always have come to it, if it had to. The only reason Brian would ever have given up his work would be for her. And, though he'd never know how right he was in his assumption, he suspected that the decision that Brian had taken had been his own and made the moment that he'd been told that there was a finite period of time left to spend with his wife.

"What about Steve?" Sandra asked.

"He'll go back to Glasgow," Gerry replied simply. "He's got Charlie there, and who knows maybe he'll make a go of that Scottish UCOS nonsense. Don't let us be what keeps you here, not this time."

She did not reply. She was lost in a myriad of thoughts that wouldn't organise themselves sufficiently to be heard with any clarity.

"Look, you go see Strickland, I'll get on to that paperwork," he said opening the door.

Her eyes softened as she watched his action. She hadn't even thought of Robert. Of course, she'd have to tell him that Brian was retiring. But she realised too that Gerry had just given her permission to go and seek the comfort of being in Robert's presence as a way of easing the pain. It was ok, they were ok.

"Gerry," she caught his attention before he left the room.

"Gov?"

"I'm sorry," she said with every ounce of honesty in her being. She might have judged that he'd pushed her away, but it had been her at fault just as much. And now, it all seemed so silly and insignificant.

"For what?" he asked automatically, creasing his brow in a frown. Surely it was him who ought to apologise for being so snide and mean for the last few weeks? Maybe she was apologising for needing to be loved? Well, he thought, that's just silly.

"Everything. I know I haven't seemed to have much time for you recently," the words that she should have spoken three weeks ago before the air between them had gotten so thick with resentment fell easily from her lips with the sincerity that they deserved. She was sorry that it was Brian's sentence that had to be the catalyst for the regaining of clarity in their lives.

"It's ok," he replied. And it was.

"Do you want to go out tonight and get roaring drunk?" she asked him smiling shyly.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Yeah, I would."


	5. Moments of Strength

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Here is the next part :) __ Jessie xx_

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**Moments of Strength**

"So, Brian's retiring?" Strickland sank a little in his chair as he watched Sandra holding together all of her resolve. He had heard the heart-breaking waver in her voice as she told him that one of her best friends was withdrawing to the background of her life to spend as much time as he had left with his wife.

"Yes," Sandra supplied, she tried to suppress the emotion from her voice, desperately ignoring the unbidden desire she had to selfishly fall apart in the light of Brian's news.

"What does this mean for you?" he kept it neutral, knowing that she was relying on him being the strength she needed as her world changed around her. He knew also that once she had time to think about it, UCOS would soon become a place that she would resent for its memories rather than the comfortable happy place she had known.

"How do you mean?" she questioned. It didn't really have any effect on her actions in her mind. There wasn't anything she could do, she couldn't take away the danger that hung over her friend's head like a cloud which could break at any moment.

"How's Gerry taking it?" he asked. UCOS was a team, a family. Jack's desertion some years ago following Hanson's escape in court and the effect that it had had on the unit for the weeks he was absent had proved that when just one part was out of place, the whole machine worked with a limp. They had managed to recover from Jack's retirement, just. They were still trying to recover from Jack's death. Losing Brian too was going to cripple the delicate balance that Sandra was only currently maintaining with Steve's help.

She hesitated. "He's talking about spending more time with his family."

Strickland nodded. "I'll be sorry to lose UCOS as it was."

He rustled about his desk and finding what he sought, he studied the piece of paper before handed it to her.

"Detective Chief Superintendent Dawson is retiring next month, murder squad. I doubt they'll even need to interview you."

"Sir, Robert…" she faltered, hardly glancing at the piece of paper he was holding out to her. It was an escape, away from the offices that she'd be walking into everyday and seeing new faces that meant nothing to her except the knowledge that everyone had moved on around her and she was the one left behind. But she'd been offered promotion before and she knew the dangers too well. Added to which it felt firstly too soon to be thinking about abandoning her unit even if it was soon to be completely unrecognisable from the unit she had established in the now distant past. Secondly, it felt too easy. To walk away from what she had created, just because it was going to be different. It was too easy. Too easy to think about herself when she should be thinking about Brian. Too soon to be considering her own future when the knowledge that Brian's held in the balance of fate was only just registering.

He waved his free hand. "Maybe we shouldn't work so closely anyway."

She felt a shiver going down her spine; not everything had to change, did it? "What do you mean?"

"I had a meeting with the Assistant Commissioner this morning," he sighed; much as he had wanted to keep his own troubles out of it, he would have had to broach the subject with her at some point anyway. "He expressed, doubts, at my impartiality when dealing with certain departments under my command."

"UCOS," she stated rather than asked as for the second time that hour the realisation that life was mutating beyond its formerly set boundaries. It was like looking at life through a kaleidoscope, focussing on one perfect image before being knocked and shattering the pattern. And there was nothing to do but carry on, twist the barrel and pray that the picture came back the way it had been. It never could though.

"UCOS," he replied steadily. The AC had been quite brutal in his insinuation; but Sandra did not need to know that. They'd never openly acknowledged it, but at the back of the back of both their minds, hidden from view behind a million other problems, fallen down the back of the pile of doubts perched perilously on the edge of rational comprehension, was the certain knowledge that their relationship could be a problem professionally.

"Does he know?" she asked, welcomingly latching on to this fresh worry landing on top of and momentarily distracting her from the subdued ache of concern about her friend. "I mean, do you think?"

"I don't know how he could," Robert stood up and walked around his desk to be nearer to her. "And I don't care if he does. But…"

"But…" she murmured, the arrows of fate becoming visible over the dunes as he traced his fingers over her cheek, communicating his own need for reassurance.

He made no reply, instead he brushed his lips lightly over her own before kissing her gently. A knock came at the door.

"Dammit," he muttered.

"I should get on."

"No, don't go," he looked steadily into her eyes. "I've got a meeting in twenty minutes, go then. Please?"

"Ok," she smiled, stepping to one side and picking the file she had brought up with her back off the desk, so as to make it look as though she had simply popped in to report on a case to her superior officer.

Robert called "Come in," and received a piece of paper from the young uniformed officer who formed the source of their interruption. "Thanks," he said dismissing the PC and closing the door.

"Problem?" Sandra asked, placing the file back on his desk as he shook his head.

Walking over to the desk himself, he tossed the note on top of everything else in his intray and looked at her for a moment before the silent and mutual agreement that passed between them before he took her in his arms. Five minutes passed with no comment, interruption or movement as she leant into his strong chest, blinking as a few muted tears leaked from her eyes. He kept up a steady rhythm running his thumb over her shoulder as he felt her cry as he rested the side of his chin against the top of her head, breathing in her perfume with closed eyes.

_What happened to me? _Sandra thought. _Six weeks ago, I wouldn't have needed this. I wouldn't have had this. In forty-eight years, I've never had this. Just because everything is falling apart, why am I? What happened to me?_

Robert sighed. He didn't want things to change any more than she did. If the last year had taught him anything though, it was that fate would throw whatever it fancied at you. It had thrown him back his daughter, given him a granddaughter, let him take Sandra Pullman in his arms. All that mattered was that he could face it, with her. Which meant that all he had to do was be there for her, to help her through. Because he knew that she felt she had to be the strong one for herself, her unit, Gerry and Brian. And if that meant she needed him a little bit more, then he was there. And the stupid AC and his opinion, in fact the whole of the MET and its opinions could take a running jump.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she drew away and placed a hand, now steady, on his cheek.

"Don't be," he murmured. "You need to be strong for the boys. Let me be strong for you."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Do you fancy going out for tea? I'm not going to be free 'til late and I can't be bothered to do the shopping."

She grinned at the domestic turn to the conversation. Their relationship had been so easy that it hardly seemed remarkable to hear her boss express a laziness towards the idea of walking around the supermarket after work. Then she remembered her promise to Gerry.

"Actually," she hesitated. "I thought I might go out with the boys tonight, do you mind?"

"Of course not," he smiled, a vague thought of take-away and lazy night on the sofa forming. "They need you, I understand that."

"I'll go back to mine," she added. "I don't want to disturb anyone when I get back, it might be quite late."

He kissed her cheek. "That's fine."

"I love you," she whispered. They didn't say it often, but at that moment she needed to say the words, needed him to hear them. With them she thanked him for being there, for understanding, for loving her as she was. With them she allowed herself to know that he was there, that he was real, that he was with her. With them she drew the strength in his response that she needed to return to work with her head held high, resolve retightened and the ability to be who she needed to be.


	6. Drunk

_Thanks for reading! Jessie xx_

**Drunk**

"Dry white wine, pint of bitter, mineral water and one of them whiskeys again please," Gerry happily ordered at the bar grinning as he glanced back at the table where his colleagues were still laughing at the joke Steve told five minutes ago.

Everything was right again. OK, so he knew it wasn't, that it could never be, but for that moment when everyone was laughing and nothing else mattered… he was determined to make as many of those moments happen for his mate as he could.

"Gerry?"

He turned to see Sandra calling for him.

"Can you get some crisps, please?"

He nodded and turned back to the pretty red-head who was serving him. "'Ere, can I get two packets of plain, a salt and vinegar, some salted nuts and a pack of them little cheese biscuits an' all please?"

The girl acknowledged his request with a small smile and turned to retrieve the selection. They had been in the pub since leaving work early, the ground work of the case done. There had been talk of going for a meal; but, as so often happened, they had left it too late before the hunger had set in. About four rounds too late.

"Christ, look at the time, will you!" Steve exclaimed as Gerry returned to the table, the drinks and smorgasbord of snacks on a tray.

"What?" Sandra slurred slightly as she ran a hand clumsily to ineffectively tuck her loose hair behind her ear. "Ooh, crisps!"

The boys laughed in unison as she snatched the cheese biscuits as they met the table.

"What?" she asked.

Shaking their heads and looking at each other, Brian took the hit. "They're not even crisps!"

She looked at the packet in vague confusion. "No, I suppose not. Bloody hell, it's only half eight!"

"Exactly!" Steve added to his previous exclamation.

"So?" Brian frowned.

Steve laughed in response. "I don't know!"

Even the sober Brian laughed with Gerry and Sandra as Steve enjoyed an unknown private joke at the expense of time. It was how it should be between them.

"So…"

"What?" Gerry grinned as Sandra apparently lost interest in what she'd been about to say and scoffed several cheese biscuits in one mouthful.

"Hmm?" she hummed with confusion to which resulted in more laughter. "This is nice," she summarised as she finished her mouthful.

"Aye, what would you usually be doing at half eight on a Monday?" Steve asked.

She thought for a moment. "Putting Bella to bed, finding something to watch on telly," she shrugged. Christ, is that what her life had become? In a few short weeks, she had become so accustomed to the life she'd found that being in the pub at half-past eight was almost alien. So many times, she'd still have been working at this time. Now, she left the office and went home; to a home.

"Do you like it?" Brian asked.

She looked at him. Part of her wanted to ask him to expand his question, to be more specific about his enquiry. Another part of her knew exactly what he was asking. And all of her knew the answer. "It's different," she admitted thoughtfully. "But, yeah, I like it."

"Sandra Pullman, settling down?" Gerry asked with a wink as he sipped from his pint, how many were they on now?

Her curious gaze switched to him. He wasn't mocking her, much. She knew it was a strange thing, it was strange for her! How must it seem to everyone who knew her! For so long she had been sure her life would follow the same interminable solitary pattern until she eventually retired. Not that she'd often given even that much thought. Retirement seemed so insignificant and so far away and so pointlessly inevitable to one who spent her life either working or alone, that she supposed she had deliberately avoided thinking about it. She shrugged and picked up her glass, noting as she did that she was half a glass behind the boys. She wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of the acidity of her drink while she drank.

"So, are we going for some grub?" Gerry asked realising suddenly that he was starving, it was the sixth round maybe?

"Yeah," Brian agreed. Esther had given him specific instructions when he'd rang her to say they were going out to not ring her for a lift before nine o'clock because she was at her book club meeting. There was no way he could go another half an hour without some promise of food.

"Do they do food here?" Steve asked, looking around for a menu. "I'm not sure I can be bothered to move!"

Sandra smiled and shook her head; the wine was starting to make her go fuzzy as thoughts of how her life had changed danced around her consciousness. "Me neither."

"What about that Chinese?" Gerry exclaimed with an excitement that caused his three colleagues to look up with eyes wide at his sudden enthusiasm.

"Yes," Sandra agreed firmly as though it was the best idea that she'd ever heard, it certainly distracted her from her other thoughts but why was Gerry swaying in his seat?

"I like Chinese," Steve settled back in his seat. "Let's go for Chinese. Brian?"

Brian nodded. Apart from his forgotten reluctance to leave his chair, Steve was hardly showing the signs of seven rounds of drink while Sandra and Gerry were both starting to look decidedly pissed.

"I'm going for a cigarette," Gerry announced.

Sandra glanced up, he was definitely swaying. "I'm going to the loo," she muttered.

Brian and Steve grinned to themselves as the two got up, walked into each other's paths and separated to head to their chosen destinations. Leaving the Northerner and the Scot alone. Steve studied Brian for a moment as the older man took a drink. He had not failed to be impressed by everything he'd learnt about the man since he'd been working at UCOS. When he'd returned to the office after talking to the pathologist who'd worked on their case, he'd known something had been said in his absence. Something that he was sure Brian hadn't wanted to say in front of him. Yet, something that was important.

"So, where were you this morning?" he broached the subject carefully. "It's ok, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Brian observed the Scot as he contemplated his response. If he was honest, he didn't have much against the man. And Steve would have to be told something eventually. He deserved the truth, or at least some of it.

"I'm retiring," he answered. "This morning I was at the doctors."

"To do with these headaches?" Steve asked.

Brian paused then nodded slowly. He hadn't realised that anyone had noticed.

"They got busy arguing with each other," Steve supplied sympathetically recognising that Brian's silence was a symptom of an unconscious gripe that he was the one who'd realised that Brian had been taking longer breaks between looking at things on the computer screen, was more eager to leave the office if only to get a little fresh air, had been closing his eyes to think a little more than usual.

"It's an aneurism," Brian told him. "I…"

"It's ok," Steve said quickly as he trailed off. "Spend as much time as possible with your Esther, she's a good woman."

"Aye, she is," Brian smiled. "Careful!" he added as Sandra returned to the table and nearly knocking her glass over as she reached for it.

"Sorry!" she giggled. "Are we going for food soon? What are you smiling at? Where's Gerry?"

Brian and Steve looked at each other and laughed. She blinked at them with childishly-drunk eyes. They didn't need to know that her slurred questions were a mask for the fact that she'd just thrown up all the several, was it five? glasses of wine that she'd consumed. The biscuits had been the cause, she was sure.

"Oof," Gerry rejoined the quartet and reached for his pint. "That was needed. Mind you, there's some idiots outside, looks like a stag party's on it's way in."

"On a Monday?" Steve asked in disbelief.

Gerry shrugged.

"Well, we'll finish these and make a move," Sandra said sounding shockingly sober now that most of the alcohol had been ejected from her system. She emitted a small sigh at the sight of how much wine was left in her glass and steadied herself for its assault before hearing the notification tone of her phone. Leaning down and finding the happily flashing article in her bag she read the message that had just come through:

_Hope you're having a nice time, x Rob_

She smiled and replaced the phone in her bag where it remained until she was drunkenly fumbling with the charger by the bedside table several hours later.

"Damn!" she cursed, then giggled, then sat on the floor cross-legged staring at the little connecting wire. She turned it in her fingers, inspecting it from every possible angle. She was sure it was the right charger for the phone; but after ten minutes of squinting at it and poking it uselessly against the location on the handset where it was supposed to fit, she remembered that she had taken her charger to Rob's flat last week.

"So what are you the charger for?" she murmured at the redundant plug and wire. "And where is whatever it is that you are the charger for?"

If she had been a little less inebriated; she would have realised that it belonged to her previous mobile. If the alcohol in her system wasn't keeping her warm; she would have noted that her house was cold from emptiness. If her senses weren't occupied with keeping her awake long enough to find her bed; she'd have smelt the odd combination of clean and damp that commonly exists in houses that aren't homes. If she hadn't been so drunk and tried that she fell asleep in her shoes; she'd have known that the odd feeling that took hold and lulled her to sleep as a few silent tears slipped from her eyes was that, for the first time in a month (and months with love last longer than those without), there was no warm body beside her as she slept deeply until her alarm disturbed a dream about a giant sandwich at six am.


	7. Hung-over

_Ok, I'm not going to lie, there's a fairly obvious plot twist coming. In the meantime, I've got a little lost so here be some hang-over drizzle! Enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Hung-over**

"Ugh," Sandra drawled dramatically, running a hand across her forehead which felt as though some ancient tribe had set up camp atop and were performing some sort of satanic ritual. She blinked at the brightness of the ceiling. Rolling over with some effort she found the button on the alarm to turn it off before returning to stare at the ceiling. The problem with which she found was that the ceiling had no longer any intention of being a solid structure. The swirls of completely smooth plaster began to dance before her bleary eyes. With a Herculean shove against the softness of her pillows she reluctantly left the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, momentarily sparing a thought for how easy it was to find her way around the house she no longer lived in. Heaving over the toilet, she tried to focus her thoughts on how well appointed her house was that she could negotiate it half-drunk and now half-hungover.

"Jes…" she muttered falling back to find the sink as support, reaching up and depressing the flush on the toilet. One hand pulled her left foot round to her side while the other curled around her right knee. Her forehead lowered she stayed statuesque for several minutes while her breathing levelled out. "Jes… I am out of practice," she laughed humourlessly at her admittance.

Twenty minutes later, gravity had resumed to a normal and manageable level and ceased its torment on her world. Grabbing tight hold of the sink bowl, she pulled herself to stand. Strangely, being sick hadn't helped. She took a few steady steps across the small room and leant on the towel rail staring at her strangled reflection. "Ugh," she grunted. Running a hand over her forehead where the satanic ritual had finished but the embers of the fire were now burning into her skull as the imaginary ancient tribe abandoned their dance, she noted the sticky and dry condition of her hair. "Shower," she sighed. The shower helped a bit. It made her feel clean again at least. "Shit," she stared at the contents of her wardrobe. She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a plain t-shirt to wear. She realised with a dull thud that she had moved into Rob's more than she'd previously thought. Even the clothes she'd taken to Wales were now on the airing rack in the corner of the living area in his flat. How long had it been since she'd been in her own house for more than an hour in the last month? She couldn't remember. She pulled a face in the mirror as she dragged a brush through her hair and threw what random make-up she could find in her cupboard drawer onto her face. Breakfast was not something she was prepared for yet, she decided as she opened various cupboards in her kitchen. She put the kettle on and threw out the three-week old milk.

The coffee helped. Though it probably hadn't sobered her up enough to drive. Shit. The car was at work. Great. Stumbling back upstairs to find her mobile she discovered that it had ran out of battery and was currently exercising a part as a useless black piece of plastic and microchips. Throwing the essentials back into her handbag from where they had become strewn across her bedroom floor she glanced around her room. The bed was a mess. She was a mess. "And it's only Tuesday," she said blandly to the empty room. Deciding that she would pop back after work to deal with the state of her house, she reached the front door with a vague thought of catching a bus when the doorbell rang. Confused cognition wondered what parcel she hadn't ordered as she opened the door.

"Hi, you look terrible."

"Thanks," she muttered glaring at Rob as he stood on her doorstep surrounded by a halo of far-too-bright sunshine.

"Thought you might appreciate a lift," he tried unsuccessfully to suppress his amusement as she fumbled in her handbag, almost dropping its entire contents, to find her house keys. Taking a step over the threshold of her house, a place he had only seldom been a guest, he deftly picked up her keys from the shelf next to the door and handed them to her.

"Do you ever get bored of being perfect?" she grumbled as she kissed him on the cheek in thanks and stepped onto the doorstep, turning to lock the door behind her.

"Good night, then?" he asked still barely hiding his smirk as he joined her sulking in his car. He'd missed her last night. It had surprised him how much. They'd spent a few nights apart since they'd started seeing each other, and they were used to only seeing each other briefly during the day. He'd eaten dinner with Mia and Bella, their lively exchanges warming his heart as he watched his daughter growing into her role as a mother. Despite Bella's eager looks for him to join her side of the argument, he did have to agree with his daughter that the milk would be better drank than thrown at the dinner table. Even if it was hilarious to see Mia's disgruntled face every time her baby pushed the bottle away. But after Bella was in her cot and it was just him and Mia in the living room; her working on some piece of coursework, he still trying to complete the crossword he'd started at the weekend; he found himself looking around the flat, noting the absence of his, was she his girlfriend?

"Mmm," she ran a hand over her forehead, which was still hot. "Brilliant. How was yours?"

"Quiet," he admitted.

"Ugh," she grunted as the sunlight fell through the window onto her. "I feel…just…ugh!"

Rob gave up hiding his laughter as he drove them to work. "I'll see you later," he smiled as she grimaced at the sight of their workplace.

"Yeah," she sighed as she picked up her handbag. "Thanks," she added, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

He rested a hand on hers for a brief moment before they got out of the car and went their separate ways. She made her way down to the UCOS offices where she found Steve filling Brian in on what had happened after he'd left them. Sandra greeted them as she went past to hang up her coat. She did not want to be reminded about what had happened after Brian had left the restaurant. There had been some shots of an undisclosed nature. Battery acid possibly, judging by the state of her hang-over.

"Right," she instigated the day. "Where are we?"

As Brian explained that he'd sourced the quotations on the map and was going to start cross-referencing them with the case details; Steve rubbished the pathology report based on what he'd found out from the pathologist's former assistant; and Gerry pointed to what he'd written on the board regarding the other deaths; Sandra wished that the queasy feeling in her stomach would go away. Instead, it followed her around for the rest of the day as the shadow of her hang-over grew longer and eventually dissipated into the surrounding events.


	8. We Didn't Lose The Game

**We didn't lose the game; we just ran out of time**

Rob scratched behind his ear with his pen as he stared at the rather pointless and utterly boring report in front of him about dress codes. For some reason he was expected to firstly care about this and secondly turn it into a memo to pass around the departments he was responsible for. Sighing, he leant back in his chair. His mind was not on the job today. To one side of his desk was another report he was meant to be looking at, this one into overtime. No. That was not getting looked at today. He was waiting for a call to oversee a series of interviews in Operation Firefly; but that wouldn't come through until they'd actually arrested the buggers. There were a number of other things that he probably ought to start dealing with before his in-tray actually took over his desk. Pulling himself up slightly, he flicked a few keys on his keyboard to pull up a screen full of names. Frowning as he scrolled down he recognised a number of names that he would not want to meet again; several that wouldn't want to see him within a thousand year timeframe; some that he was sure were dead; and at least six that he wouldn't dare put Sandra in the same interview room as, let alone induct them into her team. He turned away from the screen to lift his coffee to his lips, looking back he almost spat the liquid over the screen as he realised his cursor rested over the name Don Bevan. Well, it had been his idea, hadn't it? Smiling and shaking his head he picked up his mobile as it rang.

"Hello, Strickland," he closed down the database. "Ok, I'll meet you down there."

He was not about to inflict Don Bevan on Sandra again. But he was sure that if finding a replacement for Brian was this hard for him; it was going to be damned near impossible for her. That, if he thought about it, was probably why he'd thrust that memo about Dawson and the murder squad under her nose yesterday. Why was it that as soon as something had to be done, all you ever want to do is hide under a rock until it goes away? UCOS was breaking apart, he knew that. Every rational fibre in him knew that he had to act, and act quickly to hold together one of the most successful MET departments; a department under his own remit too. In an ideal situation he would be able to extricate Sandra from the unit, protecting her legacy and piece of mind and encouraging her to take on the challenge of the murder squad. Which was something she could do with both hands tied behind her back and blindfolded. Gerry might stay if Steve did; but to ensure that, he had to find Brian's ideal replacement last week. Added to which, both men would be more inclined to stay if Sandra was still at the helm. Robert sighed as he picked up his keys and phone, placing them in his jacket pockets. There was something else on his mind too, something else that he had to do before Brian left.

Meanwhile in UCOS the unlikely centre of Robert Strickland's thoughts punched the air. "Yes! Of course!"

"What?" Gerry looked up from his computer in confusion as Brian beamed in comprehension that he was sure that he, Gerry, would not share for at least ten minutes.

"This quotation!" Brian stepped deftly round his desk and walked to the white board, paper in hand. "Sandra!"

Scratching her head, Sandra entered the main office. She crossed her arms. "What is it Brian?"

"This quotation!" Brian explained excitedly. "It's on the map, here, corresponding to the death of Dr. Marion Parks in 1985. It's a quotation from Vince Lombardi –"

Gerry clicked his fingers, "American football coach, right?"

"Yeah," Brian acknowledged. "He lectured in Latin, Physics and Chemistry…"

"Brian…" Sandra groaned as her head began to cloud.

"Sorry, yes," Brian corrected himself. "Anyway, this 1985 death was the last one before Alberts in 1987. Parks was present at each of the other engagements."

"Are you saying, they knew each other, I mean, knew…" Gerry frowned pointing at the board with his pen.

Brian nodded. "I think so. And, all these quotes must be significant in some way…"

"Hang about, there's a statement 'ere from that '85 death," Gerry adjusted his glasses and found the sheet he was looking for before reading out loud: "_Dr. Parks spent a great deal of the evening in the company of the Professor from Hull, I'm sorry, I don't know his name. The first thing I knew of her death was when my husband heard it on the radio the next day. We'd left early, you see, the talk was rather…morbid. _Sounds to me like there's a lot of people at these things who don't really know each other."

"And then there's the quotation itself," Brian enthused. "Lombardi was a great motivator, frequently quoted for inspirational sayings. And this wasn't an inspirational quote, it was an apology without apologising. What if, these two had been meeting each other at symposiums and conferences over the years, waiting for a time when they could be together…when did Alberts separate from his wife? Two weeks before the dinner."

"I don't… no hang on," Sandra frowned, forcing her energy into concentration. "Are you saying he left his wife for this woman then killed her?"

Brian shrugged.

"Right, where's Steve?" Sandra closed her eyes.

"Chasing up files from archives," Brian hesitated by the board, marker in hand. "Of course, we still don't know who wrote these on there."

"Have you sussed out the significance of these other quotes to the victims?" Gerry sniffed. His hangover was nothing compared to Sandra's by the look of her as she perched on the edge of Jack's old desk looking decidedly queasy.

"Not yet," Brian admitted.

"Cross reference the victims to Parks," Sandra sighed heavily. "If this was a team game…"

"Or a love story," Brian provoked as he sat back at his desk.

"What?" she asked.

"The quotation for Alberts death," Brian pointed back toward the board. "_I used everything you gave me_. It's part of a longer quotation." He picked up the notepad he'd been working on. "_When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say 'I used everything you gave me.'_ What if Dr. Parks was the one behind the other deaths, the planning and so forth."

"Yeah, and Alberts was just there to add a little literary flavour to each occasion?" Gerry added.

"I think it was something deeper," Brian spoke gently. "If it's right that these two danced around each other for ten years, only meeting each other to kill…"

"Ok, well that's kinda weird that they killed themselves then," Sandra said slowly rubbing her forehead as the office lights bore into her eyes, making the world spin again. "What reference points do we have for Parks? Who can we talk to that knew her?"

"Er…" Gerry lifted up his notebook and shifted his glasses again. "Sister, pathologist. Works down our labs."

"Right, you go find Steve then go talk to her. Brian, can you keep looking at those quotes, see if you can't find some sort of pattern."

"Where are you going?" Gerry asked as she had one hand on the side door.

"To throw up," she muttered.

"Can't stand the pace," Gerry grinned. She'd been keeping pace with him well last night. She always did, though. That was why he was so glad to have her as a friend. He knew there weren't going to be as many nights like that anymore. They had, without meaning to, run out of time. As he nodded to Brian on his way to find Steve, the words of Lombardi rang in his head. Life was a game they weren't any of them going to lose any time too soon, he hoped, but their time together was running out.


	9. Routine

_Ok, so two chapters in one day might be a little excessive; but I've set a challenge of getting this finished and there is a lot of it to go! This is just a short little cutesy piece though. The quotation in it is I think from a book by Zoe Trope called __Please Don't Kill The Freshman_. _Enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Routine**

It had been the longest day in Sandra's mind; yet it had been one of the shortest too. It was barely half past four when she made her excuses and left the office. It was only April but she put the roof down on the car just to have the air surround her as she drove to the shops. They still needed to do a proper shop, but in the meantime she'd pick up a few things. Rob had got in a few bits the previous evening but through a series of remarkably romantic text messages through the afternoon he had provided her with a small shopping list. _Bread – how did you forget bread? – we had some rolls left, can you get some washing powder too – ok, toothpaste? – yes, that one with the stripe for Mia and whatever for us - - olive oil, onion, eggs, cheese…_ It had at least distracted her from the killer headache that had occupied her brain for most of the afternoon; partly wine-induced, partly trying to figure out the pattern in the case with Brian. Having completed the small shop, spending more time than was strictly necessary in the aisle with the toothpaste, how were there so many versions of the same thing? She pulled up in her own driveway. Unlocking her front door, she sighed as the waft of disuse met her senses. The house was dark, cold and had a peculiar damp smell which mingled with the left over scent of coffee from the morning.

"It's not even been a month!" she muttered angrily as she turned on her heel and closed the door behind her. She got back into her car and stared up at her house. It had always been too big for her, but it had never seemed so empty until today. Even last night, well, she mocked herself, she had been quite drunk last night. Turning the key in the ignition, she reversed out of the driveway and headed towards Rob's flat.

"Alright?" Mia asked as Sandra came in and dropped the shopping bags on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Sandra smiled, shrugging off her coat and hanging it up on the hooks, dropping her car keys into the bowl on the table. "You? Had a nice day?"

Mia shrugged. "English, free period, Maths. Nothing too exciting. No it wasn't!" she shook her head and pulled a face at Bella who had started laughing.

Sandra grinned and took a seat on the sofa, watching as Bella imitated Mia's facial expressions. "Your dad not back yet?"

"Not yet," Mia leant back against the chair, teasing Bella with one of her toys. "You sure you're alright?"

"I've had the hangover from hell all day," Sandra admitted.

"Ah," Mia grinned at her. "Hear that Bella? Nana's a bit hungover, naughty Nana!"

"Oi!" Sandra exclaimed playfully as Bella looked curiously between the two of them. She smiled and swapped her seat on the sofa for the floor so that she could play with Bella's bricks. Bella promptly rolled onto her stomach and wiggled toward her 'nana'. They'd never discussed Sandra being considered Bella's grandma, but from the first time that Mia had referred to her as such, none of them had objected to the idea. As they played, Bella reaching for bricks and 'helping' Sandra to build what resembled a building site with short piles of materials left hap-hazardously about, Sandra mused that where coffee, bacon butties and throwing up hadn't worked playing with a four-and-a-half-month old proved an effective hang-over cure. They were so absorbed by their game, complicated by Mia's addition of 'Giant Mr. Spotty Rabbit the Guv'ner' trying to tidy up their site, that they didn't notice the front door open and close.

"Well, it's nice to see you all too," Rob said in his best put-out-that-he-hasn't-been-instantly-noticed-gran dad voice.

Bella immediately looked up and gleefully gurgled, stretching her arms towards the sofa. Sandra laughed and lifted the little girl, "Do you want to see old-grumpy-pops?" she asked, looking at the child as she stood up and passed Rob his grand-daughter.

"Oh charming, old-grumpy-pops am I?" he mocked, kissing his grandchild's cheek. "I thought grumpy was your adjective today? How's the hangover?"

"Better, thanks," Sandra stuck her tongue out. She knelt on the sofa, leaning over to watch Bella pull faces at Rob.

"Hiya love, how was college?"

"Boring as usual thanks," Mia grinned, tidying up the toys. "How was work?"

"Boring as usual," Rob agreed. It was their daily exchange, if everything was boring, everything was good.

Sandra grinned as the evening settled into its routine. She was soon left in the company of Bella and a story book while Rob and Mia disappeared into the kitchen area to prepare dinner and have their 'father-daughter' time. It was so easy, she thought, to lose herself in the evenings now. To be comfortable, warm and at home. No longer was every night a spontaneous curry or a drink; a take-away; an impromptu gathering at Gerry's or Brian and Esther's (though those had become less frequent with Brian's dislike of Steve); or a night alone in front of the television with a bottle of wine. She realised with a jolt that she hadn't spent an evening with her mum for a while. She went over every weekend for a few hours on either the Saturday or the Sunday, depending on what they had planned. It hadn't exactly been overnight, but it was close to; her circle had grown in a confining way. That worried her slightly. And perhaps she'd spent too long that afternoon thinking about quotations, but something she'd read in some book sometime ago came back to her with inverted commas shadowing it in her mind: _There is nothing special about falling in love. This is habit, this is routine…_ She wouldn't swap it for the world; the feeling that she got when she met Rob in the car-park after work; the sense of arriving home to a place where people lived; listening to Mia talk about her college work; playing bricks with Bella and reading silly stories while watching her small face light up with peculiar facial expressions as the baby began to recognise the sounds that she made. The feeling of someone's hand upon her shoulder, tenderly interrupting, "You ready for dinner?"

She looked up at his gently smiling face, "I'll just finish this page."

"Ok," he leant down and brushed his lips against her forehead.

She finished the last page of the story and handed Bella to Mia so that the child could feed before bed-time. She and Rob would open a bottle of wine, enjoy a small glass while he put the finishing touches to dinner. Mia would join them after putting Bella down and they would eat and talk about their days but never about the details of work: Rob would animatedly imitate whichever boring and stuck-up political fool he'd had to meet with; Sandra would roll her eyes and describe her rogues' latest capers. Sandra and Mia would do the washing up while Rob checked his e-mails for the last time of the day, put their phones on charge and find something to watch on the television. They'd turn off the lights in the kitchen and join him in the living room with cups of coffee. Mia would sit and do some of her coursework before disappearing to her own room, leaving them alone on the sofa with the lights low and the rest of the bottle of wine from dinner.

There was nothing special about it. It was habit; it was routine; it was comfortable; it was family. And she wouldn't have it any other way.


	10. Monday, again

_OK, so this mission, I'm aiming for a chapter a day. Eeek! Here's today's instalment – hope you enjoy! Oh, and I'm sorry for the really lame chapter title! Jessie xx_

**Monday, again.**

"Mmm, morning…" Rob silenced the alarm, rolled over and opened his eyes in confusion as he found the pillows beside him vacant. "Sandra?"

Frowning, he got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. It was Monday morning again, though a less reluctant one than the previous week as they had managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour without a lengthy snow-delayed drive preceding it. They'd had a pleasant weekend; Sandra had suggested that she might like a few hours to clean her house and sort out her wardrobe and, after a fairly busy week at work, time had decreed that their Saturday morning had been spent with him and Bella rolling about on the rug in her living room while Mia helped Sandra to clean the house. How her house could be dirty, Rob was slightly bewildered by, but he couldn't help but agree when they'd got there. He supposed it was due to the fact that she spent most of her time at work or at his, her house had become a drop and go sort of place. He wondered how she felt about that. They hadn't had the 'relationship' talk. Everything had just sort of fallen into place. Quickly too. Thinking about it, it had only been six weeks since the first night they'd shared together; discussing the sleep-ability of the sofa. He'd been devastated when she'd turned up in his office the day after they had found out about Jack's death, but had understood her decision that they shouldn't see each other. But then, that argument, the undercover mission that hallmarked disaster; losing her. It had gone quite smoothly in the end, the compromise they had reached in that case. The compromise that ultimately had allowed him to care about her, to need her, to love her. Whatever the reasons, he knew that he wouldn't change a thing regarding their relationship. They didn't need to have 'the Talk'. After Sandra and Mia were satisfied that the house was of an agreeable standard, they'd then dropped Mia and Bella in town and gone to see her mother. That hadn't been terrifying at all. He'd met Grace Pullman before. Memorably, she had acted as an awkward matchmaker while Sandra had been obviously floundering about something that was going on in her office. He still wasn't entirely sure what that had been. But Grace had seemed happy enough that he was looking after her, even though she had berated him for not bringing Mia and Bella to meet her too. That had been remedied on the Sunday. Though she had mocked Sandra for not seeing her for a fortnight then coming twice in one weekend. He smiled to himself as he thought of the conversation he'd had with her mother while she had taken the excuse of helping Mia settle Bella into the car for the return journey. She'd apologised for that, profusely. He'd acted up to it of course, demanding several kisses and that it was her turn to cook dinner.

"Sandra?" he inquired of his daughter as he found her in the kitchen but no Sandra in sight.

"Bathroom," Mia replied simply, turning her attention back to the cereal she was mashing up for Bella.

He shrugged and took a seat at the kitchen bar. He was about to ask Mia what time she finished college that day as he was hoping to get out early when Sandra emerged from the bathroom. "Morning, love, you ok?"

"Urgh, I don't think that Indian agreed with me," she pulled a face, coming over to the kitchen bar and tying her dressing gown at the waist. "I knew we should have gone to the other one."

"It was your choice, you were in charge of dinner –"

"Yes, thank you, I remember why. And as neither of your stomachs are rejecting my catering…shut up!" she finished ineffectually as the two with stomachs of iron burst into laughter.

"Sorry," Rob leant over and kissed her cheek. "Next time, we'll go to the other one."

"Next time, we won't go and see my mother first," she grumbled, flushing as she recalled how embarrassed her mother had managed to make her feel at variously frequent times over the weekend. "Or if we do, she's not allowed to talk!"

"Do you want some breakfast?" he asked, standing up as the kettle finished boiling and Mia disappeared to wake her daughter.

"Yes please," Sandra was suddenly ravenous after her body had decided to evacuate its last meal. Either she had managed to catch some deeply annoying stomach bug or she was developing an equally irritating allergy to her favourite things; wine and curry. Whichever it was, it irked her. She'd not been sick for ages before last week. Must have been Wales.

"Sandra? Are you with us this morning?"

She looked at him, his jovial tone not entirely masking the quite serious concern she could see in his expression. She shook her head slightly, dispelling the lingering thoughts of wine and curry and smiled. "I'm fine, really. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying I thought I might take Mia shopping after work, for Bella," he frowned. She really hadn't heard a word of the conversation that he might as well have had with the milk carton. "If you're not feeling well…"

"She finishes early on Mondays," Sandra nodded in agreement. "And Bella does need some new clothes."

"Yes," Rob decided to ignore for now that she hadn't registered his second comment. "I don't suppose there's any chance you might…?"

"Probably not," she agreed; the chances of her managing to get out of work early amusing her as she tried not to imagine what fresh scrapes the new week would bring with her boys. "Besides, it's Monday."

He thought for a moment then held the plate he was holding up in realisation, "Boys night?"

She grinned, "Yes."

He dished up the toast smiling as he vividly recalled Gerry's petulant pouting on Friday evening. They'd all gone down the pub for a drink after work and he'd gone to pick up Sandra. Before he'd hardly said 'good evening' the boys had informed him that Monday night was hereafter 'Boys night', i.e. their night with Sandra. Seeing no reason to object to this, he'd naturally agreed. He'd also agreed to go fishing with Brian and Gerry at some point; it would have been that weekend except for the very real need to see Grace. Sandra had categorically informed him that her mother had said that if she didn't get to meet him that weekend then she was going to come round. He knew the power of that threat now as when faced with it on Saturday he'd practically got to his knees and promised that Mia and Bella would accompany them on the Sunday.

"You going back to yours?" he asked sitting back at the bar. He couldn't be bothered to set the table for breakfast, conversation had gotten in the way.

"Can I come back here?" she asked quietly, as though unsure of his answer. The thought of going back to her house, although clean, wasn't appealing to her. She was determined not to be _that_ drunk or _that _hungover ever again.

"Of course you can," he laughed. "Sandra… of course you can!"

"It shouldn't be that late, it's not going to be another one like last week."

He wasn't sure whether she was promising this to him or to herself. Either way, his day was made a lot more pleasant by the amused scenarios that he painted of her stumbling through his front door much later that day. She was quite affectionate when she'd had a drink; even the way that she'd fall asleep halfway through making a romantic suggestion and roll onto her back snoring instead of carrying through with her proposal made him glad to have her in his life.


	11. Things To Be Done

**Things to be done**

The phone was ringing in her office, interrupting a lively debate between her and the boys about exactly what sort of a state she'd been in last week after the inaugural Monday boys night.

"How can it have been the first one anyway?" she asked as she retreated to her office. "We hadn't even agreed on it being a thing yet! Hello, Pullman?"

"_Hiya, it's me, have you got a minute to come up?"_

"Sure," she smiled. "Be there in a couple of minutes. Right," she returned to the sight of Brian and Steve teasing Gerry for his own hung-over Tuesday. "I've got to go upstairs, can you lot get the report and this office tidied up by the time I get back?"

"Depends how long he takes!" Gerry teased, winking at Brian and Steve who descended into giggling like teenage girls and making silly gestures to accompany the cockney's meaning.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes and laughed as she left the office. Walking up the stairs to rejoin the ground floor and then through the necessary doors, corridors and more stairs; her thoughts danced a happy samba that Gerry's teasing was genuine once again. Life could be like this everyday, she smiled; waking up with Rob, family breakfast time, work and play with the boys. For the first time in the week since Brian's announcement, she allowed her mind to tip-toe toward what his replacement would be like. She had to find one first, and she wasn't looking forward to that. In fact, that was probably what Rob wanted to talk to her about right now. Her cognitions backed away from the gate they had approached, as suddenly as the idea had taken her with a Cheshire curiosity, now it was pointing a gun at her happiness. Unfortunately, she was there now at the door and she had to knock.

"Come in," his voice called from within. Professional, clipped, warm with a touch of gravel. The sort of voice that could wrap you up in a soft blanket or strangle a suspect at six inches. She shook her head slightly as she entered, his voice was not a viper!

He smiled and waved a hand at the seat opposite his desk as he finished a conversation on the telephone. She sat and politely only half listened to his side of the exchange which seemed to be a more than a little boring and trying. For once, his office was quite tidy. Often when she came in, there were stacks of papers and box files on top of filing cabinets and in strategic piles on the floor. But today, everything was clear; filed and tidy. Even the red wire in-tray on the corner of his desk, opposite his computer monitor, was empty. As he spoke into the handset of his desk phone she watched his fingers playing with the binding of his notebook. Sitting between her and the notebook was a photo-frame. Idly pondering what picture he had on his desk distracted her from needing to know what the pile of files next to his computer keyboard were. Filled with shiftless trepidation for the contents of those files, she sat patiently waiting for him to complete his dialogue.

"Absolutely, I agree, sir, but, yes, I know," he grimaced at Sandra, he really wanted this exchange to have finished ten minutes ago. But having been on the phone for eight and a half minutes now, he was really trying to wrap it up. "Definitely. Yes, I'll talk to…yes, I'll see you tomorrow Sir, ten o'clock. Ok, thank you, good bye. Christ," he exhaled as he replaced the receiver in its holder. "Sorry about that."

"Commissioner?" she inquired courteously.

"Yes," he glanced about distracted for the moment. His office was tidy at least, if only his mind could settle in such orderly civility. The commissioner wanted the lead position of the murder squad filling quickly; Rob had a handful of candidates in mind to put forward, one of whom was sitting opposite him right now. But there was a station that needed filling more urgently as far as she was concerned. "Anyway…"

"Are those…?" she pointed at the ominous pile of manila covers.

"Yes," he latched onto the subject and placed a hand on the pile. "Look, I know this is going to be hard for you. There's a list in there of all retired officers who have expressed an interest in a position at UCOS. There's also a few officers that I think ought to be considered who have retired in the last five years. Obviously, you're welcome to widen the field, advertise if you'd like. But these are the service records for a number of what I consider the most suitable candidates."

"How many have you got there?" she asked.

"Twelve," he answered succinctly and shrugged. "I can't promise that any of them will match up to Brian, but I think they probably broke the mould with him!"

She smiled and took the files that he passed to her. "I'll have a look at them."

"Thank you. I think we probably ought to be looking for interview next week. Unless you want to advertise," he optioned again.

She nodded. "Is it ok, I mean, I'd like to ask Gerry's opinion."

"Absolutely," he agreed fervently. "I'm assuming he will be acting as your deputy now. You don't need to run the shortlist past me either; I'd just like to observe the interviews. UCOS is your unit."

Honey-like warmth flowed through her. This time, being given carte-blanche over her unit, it actually meant something. It didn't hurt that the words came from the man that she loved and respected rather than Don-stupid-Bevan too.

"I have to ask," he hesitated, it seemed so insensitive to bring it up. Luckily, she saved him.

"I haven't had a chance to think it through yet," she admitted. "The Dawson job?"

"Ok, well, talk to the boys about it," he accepted. He didn't want to push her into the job, it would put more pressure on her, but she could handle pressure. It would be a headline in her career, but it was whether she wanted that. He knew her well enough that once she would have jumped at the job; he knew UCOS well enough that she needed to talk to the boys about leaving. Even if she hadn't realised that until now, if the look of dawning comprehension behind her eyes was anything to judge by.

_Every single time_, she thought. _Every single time I think anything about this man, he surprises me again._ Until Rob's simply supplied words, which weren't suggestive or accusing, she hadn't realised what had stopped her from thinking about the job. She needed to talk to the boys. There was just one other thing.

"I will," she promised. "Sir, there was just one other thing."

"Yes?" he cocked his head slightly, recognising the tone of her voice.

"Well, we'll have the report on the Alberts and Parks case ready by this afternoon. Then there's a case that…"

"Sandra," he looked her straight in the eye. "I know what you're going to ask. And you know what I'm going to say."

"That it isn't in the public interest to re-open a case for personal reasons. Sir, I'm not going to lie, I want to do this for Brian. But I don't want to bring it up if there's no chance of closure. If Gerry and me could just look at the case, see if there's anything …"

"Ok," he said slowly. "I'll have the file sent down."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I'll see you later."

He watched her leave his office and sighed. Leaning back into his chair he scratched the back of his neck. He stared at the photograph on his desk and let out a low whistle of breath. Mia and Bella smiled back at him. Shaking his head and pulling his phone toward him he lifted the handset and dialled. _The things we do for family_, he thought as he listened to the sound of the internal ring.

"Hello, this is DAC Strickland, I want to authorise the release of a file to Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman in UCOS. Yes, it's a death in police custody file, name of the victim: Anthony Kaye."


	12. Coffee and Cigarettes

_Ok, so work and cider interfered with challenge :/ Here, however, is the next chapter! Enjoy a little pointless prose! Jessie xx_

**Coffee and Cigarettes**

"I'm impressed," Gerry said coming out of Sandra's office as she returned, alluding to the amount of time for which she had been absent. "Report's on your desk, Guv."

"Thanks Gerry. Likewise," she added, ignoring his insinuation and referring to the fact that he had actually finished the report while the others were busy tidying. "It looks almost tidy in here."

"It's amazing what a bit of spit and polish can do," Steve agreed, emerging from (of all places) behind the fridge in the kitchen corner complete with marigold yellow rubber gloves.

Sandra laughed, she couldn't help it. Brian turned around from the shelves that he was organising. For some reason, unknown to him or Steve, the majority of shelving and filing had apparently ended up in Gerry's hands, for the normal system of alphabetisation had been passed by in favour of crazed shoving things into a place. He had to admit, the sight of their latest recruit replete in his cleaning mode was an image of some comedy.

"Gerry, can I have a quick word before you go for that?" Sandra halted his search for his lighter which she had already noted was becoming incorporated into Brian's arrangement of the shelves. She winked at Steve as Gerry left the packet of cigarettes on his desk, turning to return to hers. She had to bite her lip slightly to refrain from giving the game away, hearing Brian and Steve's hurried discussion ensuing behind her as to where to hide the other half of the smoking paraphernalia.

"What's up?" Gerry asked as she closed the door.

"Rob's given me these. They're the service records for a number of former officers that he feels might be suitable to join UCOS. Now, while Brian and Steve start looking at the new case this afternoon, I want you to look through them with me. Is that ok?"

"Me?" Gerry frowned slightly in confusion that he couldn't quite account for.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Look, you're more likely to know some of them than me. And you're going to have to work with them too. We need someone who can do the job, obviously. But the job that we do."

"'Course," Gerry said. The confusion filtered away leaving him feeling quite flattered. "Thanks."

"Gerry…" she realised suddenly that he probably hadn't expected her to put him in the place that Jack had held at the beginning of UCOS. She shouldn't really have been surprised, his relationship track-record did sort of show his habit of neglecting to think more than a few steps ahead of himself. But she wanted him to know, well, he was important to her. And without Brian around…

"No, let's just leave it at that, eh?" he held up a hand, knowing where her thoughts had gone. "I'm in danger of tearing up 'ere!"

"You and me both," she smiled. "There's something else. Something that you can't tell the others, not yet," she watched as his face fell into concentration. "I've asked Rob to get the Anthony Kaye file released and sent down to us. Now, there may be nothing in it. But if there's a chance…"

Gerry nodded seriously. "I understand. Are you sure though?"

"I just want to look at the file, see if there's anything."

"See whether or not he really is mad?" Gerry winked, lightening the tone. "He's got my lighter, hasn't he?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Sandra opened the door and re-entered the office before she could laugh. "Coffee anyone?"

"Not yet!" Steve exclaimed. "I've got de-scaler in the kettle!"

"Where the hell did you get that from?" Gerry asked, following her out and looking around. "Hey, where the hell are my fags?!"

Steve shrugged and shot Sandra a wink to which she rolled her eyes.

"We've got no milk anyway," Brian interrupted Gerry before he could put too much thought into where his belongings had been dispersed to.

This, Sandra at least knew to be true. "I'll go," she said. "I'll pick up some sandwiches."

"Where the bloody hell are my fags?!" Gerry exploded as she retrieved her handbag and car keys.

"Not cheese," Steve pointedly ignored Gerry.

"Chicken, please," Brian added, deliberately standing in front of the shelf where he had filed Gerry's lighter as his friend cast an almost despairing eye around the office.

"Ok," she grinned. "See you in a bit."

By the time she returned, Brian and Steve had given in to Gerry's increasing annoyance and sent him to the shops to buy cigarettes ("And crisps, she never brings crisps!" at Steve's request).

"So how long did it take him?" Sandra inquired as she sat on the red sofa and pulled the first white paper package out of the bag. "More importantly, can I have a coffee yet?"

"Not yet," Steve grinned. "He found the lighter though. Pretty quick, mind you it was a rubbish hiding place!"

"Rubbish? Nonsense," Brian took the sandwich that Sandra held out to him. "He'd still be looking for it if you hadn't kept looking at it!"

Steve laughed and received his own sandwich. "Did you get us all chicken?"

She shrugged. "Saves one argument, right?"

"Right," Gerry announced his return. "Who wants salt and vinegar?"

"Haven't you got plain?" Brian asked.

Sandra and Steve looked at each and rolled their eyes.

"So," Sandra interrupted Brian's mutterings that no sane person would ever put salt and vinegar crisps in a chicken sandwich. "Brian, you and Steve can get the Patterson case on the board this afternoon and make a start looking at what forensics have sent up."

"What are you doing?" Brian asked with a mouthful of sandwich.

"Gerry and me have got some…"

"Applications to look through," the northerner finished for her.

She looked at him. He shrugged. "Yes," she answered simply. She couldn't judge his reaction. His stern face betrayed no sign of anything except distaste at the salt and vinegar edge to his sandwich.

"We're still going to the pub tonight, right?" Steve sensed the awkwardness rising as Gerry refused to look up from his lunch. "Because trying to fill this old sod's position could take yous guys longer than an afternoon!"

Gerry laughed. Steve laughed. Sandra smiled. Brian grinned. Steve had managed to avoid the word 'replacing' with a deft lexicality that made their afternoon far more enjoyable than it might have been. At intervals, Gerry would look up from his position opposite Sandra's desk shake his head and toss a file into the pile of 'definitely not'. In turn, each of them found themselves staring into the main UCOS office; their eyes first following the quiet activity of their colleagues; then falling to the desk on the right, complete with Wimbledon AFC scarf acting as a banner in the background; finally resting on the empty desk opposite the main doors. Gerry sighed, scratched behind his ear with the biro he was playing with and tore his gaze away from the past; he'd promised to look after them both, dwelling wasn't going to do that. Sandra bit her lip and remembered that if wishes were wings then wombles would fly.

"Swap?" Gerry stretched in his chair.

"Yep," she agreed resting her head on her hands for a moment.

They exchanged piles of files and began again. By the time Steve and Brian had bored of a half-cocked forensics report and interrupted to say that they were going down to the labs to see the evidence themselves, they had managed to agree that three of the individuals whose service records they had reviewed should be called to interview.

"Right," Sandra sighed and pulled her desk phone closer. "Am I ringing this one too?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm going to stick the kettle on, coffee?"

"Mmm, please," she nodded as she traced the number she was dialling with one hand with her index finger. Lifting the receiver to her ear she listened to the serene synthetic sounds of the telephone as she waited for her call to be answered. Then a sudden realisation hit her, but it was too late.

"The little swine!" Gerry exclaimed as he plucked his now ruined cigarette packet out of the kettle he had just been filling.


	13. Boys Night

_Thanks for reading! Jessie xx_

**Boys Night**

"So when are you interviewing?" Steve asked as he returned to the table in their local with a tray of drinks.

"Friday, thanks," Sandra finished her glass and swapped empty for full. "Rob said next week but we figured if none of them are any good…"

"That's fair," the Scot agreed. "Well, Brian and me have looked at the forensics evidence and the daughter's right – there is enough there to re-open the case."

"Right," Sandra nodded.

They chatted about the case, Gerry returned from outside and Brian from the Gents. They talked about the four candidates that Gerry and Sandra had picked for interviewing. They fantasised about how UCOS would carry on forever. They reminisced about how it had changed. They teased Sandra about being able to convince their boss of nearly anything now. They talked about family. Sandra went to the bar to get more drinks. She looked back at her boys. They had been her only family for so long, it was only right to be open with them. _A good team doesn't keep secrets_, she smiled as she remembered her own words from one of their early cases. She'd had to come clean about knowing WPC Daniels. She hadn't been entirely upfront about her relationship with the eventual culprit but that was her prerogative. There were things they needed to know. _One thing at a time,_ she thought to herself as she paid for the drinks and carried the tray to the table.

"No nuts?" Gerry asked as he looked over the collection of snacks she had added to the round.

"Did you…?" she began then stopped: he had asked for salted peanuts. Why had she forgotten? "Sorry, do you want some?"

"Nah, you're alright," he opened a packet of crisps and split the packet open so that they could share more easily.

"There's something I need to talk to you all about," she opened as she sat down. Three faces suddenly became serious as they turned their attention to her. There was a tiger in her stomach, prowling uncomfortably as she hoped they wouldn't jump to any conclusions. "DCS Dawson is retiring as head of the murder squad and I've been asked to apply for the job."

She couldn't work out whether the silence that followed her announcement was an awkward one or not. It seemed to last forever though, she was sure of that. Focusing on the glass of lemonade she was drinking (the wine hadn't been that nice again, plus she wanted to drive back to Rob's) failed to distract her from the fact that none of them had offered her a reaction. Daring to glance over the rim of the tinted glass, she realised she could read each of their thoughts, but couldn't predict what their eventual responses would be. Gerry's eyes had widened slightly and he was staring straight at her; she deliberately avoided catching his eye and deduced that he was caught between telling her to go for it and begging her to stay. If she went, he would follow suit. If she stayed, he would stay too. He didn't know what he wanted her to do. Steve's eyes flicked between the other three; he would be biting his tongue, not wanting to speak out of turn. Brian had sucked in his cheeks slightly as he watched her; wondering how long it would be before she demanded some form of feedback and questioning what the end result of this conversation was supposed to be. She didn't want to break the elongated pause; she needed their opinions, or did she just want their permission to decide?

Steve looked at each of his friends once more before deciding that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he spoke first, if only to move the evening forward. "Are you going to?"

Sandra bit her lip, "I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I wanted to talk to you all about it. Obviously your jobs are safe, Rob will find someone else to head UCOS if I went, they won't close down the unit," she resisted the need to add _if you want them_: partly because it would cause Rob a bigger headache if they all jumped ship simultaneously; partly because if they did decide to follow her out the door then it would feel like the last ten years of hard work were less significant than they really were; and partly because she genuinely had no idea what she wanted to do and suggesting the possibility that there was a readily open door would sound like she had. "But I don't…I don't know."

"It would be another feather," Steve chose to overlook the gargoyles either side of him. Sandra clearly needed their support, whatever decision she would make, as far as he could see. He apprehended that the very fact that she had preferred to take their views on the situation signalled her own unrest about the idea. "Detective Chief Superintendent. It has a nice ring to it. But would that be a reason to go for it?"

"No," she said quite definitely. "I … I don't think it would be. It wouldn't be for the rank. Not now. But then, what would it be for? I mean, it'd mean more pressure, more work. Cases would be more immediate, but they wouldn't be any less important than what we do. And then there's the procedures, I'd be dealing with a department that have not only read The Book but follow it!"

Her attempt to reduce the morose expressions of her two older friends failed as Gerry finally joined the discussion. "It sounds like you've already talked yourself out of it," he said in a flat and almost disgusted tone.

"You could always go for the interview and see what you think. Or ask to do a couple of days with this Dawson guy, get a feel for it," Steve shot an appalled look at Gerry. How the man had the gall to flatten her reasoning disturbed him. It also showed for the second time in recent memory just how childishly Gerry could behave.

"That's a good idea," she acknowledged Steve with a smile before turning on Gerry. "And what if I have talked myself out it already? The worth of what we do at UCOS is something that I shouldn't have to quantify for you! Things happen, bad things happen to people; it's our job to put away the people that cause them!"

"You're right, you are behind the times," Gerry rejoined. "We don't put them away anymore. The CPS do that, or at least they do sometimes! How many cases have we solved and the bastards who've ruined peoples' lives still get away with it just because of the distance in time? It isn't right. You know what we do is get to the bottom of a case, but don't you ever feel that sometimes we're just too late? You could be there, healing the wounds after they've happened, not twenty years later!"

"Is it him?" Brian asked calmly interjecting into the conversation as if they were discussing the weather. "Strickland? Is it because of him?"

As Sandra narrowed her eyes and tried to work out what Brian was asking her, Mia closed her course book and rubbed her eyes. Bella was starting to grumble on her playmate, so she picked her up. She looked over to where her dad was almost dozing off on the sofa.

"Oh Bella," she murmured in the baby's ear. "Look at old-sleepy-pops, think we tired him out with all that shopping!"

Bella giggled as Rob opened his eyes and pointed roughly in their direction. He was quite comfortably sprawled on the middle seat of the sofa with his feet on the coffee table. And he was ridiculously exhausted after their after college shopping trip. "Sleepy-pops says shush," he grunted playfully.

"Aww," Mia got out of the chair and joined him on the sofa. "But Bella wanted to say thank-you for all her lovely new things, didn't she?"

Rob grinned as Bella reached her arms out toward him. He scrunched up his nose and smiled; the resulting sight hadn't yet failed to make his granddaughter laugh. "Come here then, you two," he sat Bella on his lap while Mia pulled her feet up and leant forward to aid Bella's play with Rob's tie. He rested his free arm around his daughter's knees and smiled happily.

"No," Sandra settled on at length. "It's not because of him."

Brian nodded, seemingly satisfied in some way that eluded her comprehension. "I think Steve's right," he said, checking any further silent interrogation of his meaning. "Go over for a day, see what you think. You're right, it's different. When Jack and me had to go over…"

Gerry snorted. "You went awol," he recalled. "I had Emily giving me ear-ache about that for months. She still brings it up every now and then!"

"What's this?" Steve asked bewildered at the turns the two men had just executed.

"A few years back, there was this case we worked. Fresh body turns up, MIT get involved, only they're short-handed so Brian and Jack they get sent up to make up numbers," Gerry explained.

"They wouldn't need to make up numbers if their bloody system wasn't so stupid. Action-led or whatever it is," Brian interjected sipping his drink.

"Yeah, anyway, my Emily was the Action Manager or whatever they call it," Gerry continued. "Next thing I know, Sandra and me are tracking this fella and I get a call. It's only Emily telling me that them two have left her a post-it note and gone awol!"

After the laughter had run its course Gerry turned to Sandra. "Listen, you need to figure out why you'd want the job if you're going to go for it. But there's nothing stopping you, never has been."

"_In general, people only ask for advice that they may not follow it; or if they should follow it, that they might have somebody to blame for giving it._ Alexandre Dumas, _The Three Musketeers_," Brian supplemented.

"So when does this stop being a mid-life crisis?"

They had changed position, Bella now on Mia's lap, resting against the girl's legs which hung over the arm of the sofa while she laid back with her head on her father's thigh.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"You and Sandra," she said simply. "Or is it like some sort of rebound thing? I mean it's been a while since you and my mum. How many relationships have you had in that time?"

Rob could do nothing but frown in confusion. He couldn't quite figure out from their very comfortable positions whether or not his daughter was being deliberately antagonistic or whether or not he was angry at her questions.

"I bet it's not as many as she's had," Mia continued, winking at Bella whose expression she was sure matched her father's, bemusement. "Mum I mean, not Sandra. I don't know actually, she's probably been around a bit. I mean she is pretty."

"Hermione…" Rob growled.

"Smart too," Mia shifted to sit up. She looked her father directly in the eye as she settled Bella against her ready to take her and get her ready for bed. "Successful. Caring. Strong," after every word she paused to allow her dad to interrupt or correct her. "Well spoken too," she added.

"Where are you going with this?" Rob asked.

Mia studied him for a minute and permitted him to do the same. She sniffed. Rob recognised his daughter's habit; she always sniffed before getting to the point.

"She loves you?" she asked seriously

He smiled.

"You love her?"

He nodded.

"Good," Mia sniffed again. She was aware of her own daughter beginning to fall asleep against her chest. Distracted for a moment, she moved the baby to rest more comfortably against her shoulder and slipped her feet off the sofa. Turning back to her dad's concerned face; she leant forward and kissed his cheek. "Relax. You're ready. Good night."

Rob blinked. "When did you get so grown up?"

She shrugged as she got off the sofa, "Don't let this be a mid-life crisis, Dad. You mean too much to each other."


	14. I Used To Have A Hamster Called Rufus

**I used to have a hamster called Rufus**

"What did you mean, I'm ready?" Robert Strickland couldn't concentrate on his cornflakes. He watched as his daughter meandered hurriedly about their flat trying to get herself and her baby ready for the day. His… girlfriend? was in the bathroom and he was still trying to eat the breakfast that wasn't nearly as captive to his imagination as the elusive words he had been told last night.

"Hmm?" Mia murmured as she pulled the cushions off the sofa. "Where the bloody hell is it?"

"Mia?" he regretted the sharp tone to his voice as soon as she looked at him. "Sorry, what are you looking for?"

"Bella's flipping sock!" she exclaimed. "I want to put a wash on before I go to college right? So where the heck's it gone?! Ah-ha!"

Triumphantly she stood in the middle of the room amongst a pile of discarded cushions holding high above her head the evasive sock that had in fact been underneath the coffee table probably the whole time. She looked about her as her dad looked on in confusion and her daughter clapped her hands together. Taking pity on the somewhat desperate look on his face she stepped over her attempt at feng-shui and cut a path to where he sat at the breakfast bar.

"Your cornflakes are all soggy," she pointed out mundanely as she tickled the little girl staring up at her from her car seat. "You know what I meant," she added quietly for she knew that Sandra was only a few yards and two walls away from them. "You're ready. Ring him."

"Who?" Rob was no nearer to understanding. Her elaboration had only increased his lack of understanding.

She cocked her head to one side, 'seriously dad?' written all over her face. "Rufus? My brother? Your son?"

It was only through the miracle of Bella pulling on her fingers and distracting her that she hadn't added the final qualification that she had been about to attribute to her brother. Rob nodded slowly. He hadn't spoken to Rufus since Christmas Day, Helen had taken him away with her to spend Christmas in New York with her new bloke and his family. The conversation had been brief. And as soon as Rufus had greeted his sister, Helen had taken the phone away from him and hung up. Rob and Mia had spent a relatively peaceful Christmas Day together, once they'd finished mutually cursing his ex-wife.

"I'll ring him today," Rob promised.

"You're fishing on Saturday," she reminded him, returning to rearrange the sofa as it had been before her rampage.

"Oh yeah," Sandra emerged from the bathroom rubbing her hair dry with a towel. "Brian mentioned that again last night."

"Oh?" Rob asked.

"Relax, he's looking forward to it. He's been going on about some sort or other of bait and which one to get," she rolled her eyes. "As long as he doesn't keep it in the fridge again."

Rob decided he didn't want to know.

"Your cornflakes are all soggy," Sandra observed as she pulled up a seat and filled a bowl of her own.

After a morning less tiresome than usual, most likely owing to the Commissioner and Assistant Commissioner being out at a high-brow soiree that evening and spending the day that they would usually be destroying the souls of their underlings having their suits fitted. And their nails done, Rob imagined playfully. He settled in his office with the sandwiches Mia had made him that morning. Tuesdays were a full day for her at college and included spending lunchtime at an extra class, so she took a packed lunch rather than use the canteen and had fallen into the habit of making him one up too. It was something he was not objectionable too as Tuesdays for him were usually ball-aching bureaucracy in the morning followed by never-ending paperwork in the afternoon; a little reminder of home half-way through the day was nice. Having enjoyed his lunch, he pulled his mobile from his pocket. Now was as good a time as any. Rufus was at boarding school in Hertfordshire, lunch time was likely not that different there as in London. Sure enough after a few rings, the call was answered.

"Hi Rufus? It's your dad. … Yes, how's school? … Good, good. What are you up to now? … Lunch. I see. Me too. … No, everything's fine. … Listen, what are you doing this weekend? … Ok, erm, is it ok if we come up on the Sunday then? … Yeah? … Right, well, the thing is, Mia would like to see you. … Yes, you can meet your niece. …. There's someone else I'd like you to meet too. … Ok, great, well we'll see you this weekend then. … Ok, take care, bye."

"Are you kidding me?" Gerry exploded as he put the phone down angrily. "Are they actually having a bloody 24/7 comedy gala at Bournemouth Nick?"

"Not helpful?" Steve looked over as he chucked his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. He and Sandra had just returned from seeing the woman who had petitioned them to re-open the case of her father's death twelve years ago.

"Understatement of the century," Brian confirmed as he glanced up from his computer.

"The file they sent over is bloody useless; the original investigating team, who have by the way been relocated all over the sodding country, are impossible to talk to; and the idiot who was in charge of the case is a bloody idiot!" Gerry fumed. "How the hell he managed to get promoted to running anything more than a tap is a flaming joke!"

"This is the guy who's now Chief Super at Bournemouth?" Sandra walked across the office to the kettle. "I worked with him once in the murder squad. He was on attachment, Jack sent him back after three days with a note requesting he be attached somewhere else."

"By his underpants up a lamppost?" Gerry asked optimistically.

"Something like that," she grinned. Putting the kettle on to boil she eyed the fridge suspiciously. She really hoped Brian hadn't put any live bait in there. Mia had made her some sandwiches that morning and she was fairly sure that cheese and maggot was not a favourite combination of hers.

"Here, I'll do that," Steve interrupted her thoughts and nodded toward the ringing phone in her office. "So the case was basically run by a bunch of monkeys who have all since been separated to the far corners?"

"Pullman?" Sandra answered. "Oh, hi. What can I do for you?"

"_In the middle of the working day? Don't give me ideas,"_ Rob's voice came down the line. _"Actually I was just checking that you didn't have any plans on Sunday?"_

"Why, where are you taking me?" she toyed with the wire of the phone for a moment then stopped herself. There was no need to act like a character in a romantic comedy.

"_Hertfordshire. I'd like you to meet my son, and for him to meet you. If that's ok?"_

She hesitated a second. For some reason, this felt like a big deal. It shouldn't, she reasoned. She already lived with his daughter and granddaughter after all. "That's fine," she assured him. Agreeing that she'd probably be late and that chicken would be lovely for tea she put the phone down.

"Everything alright, guv?" Gerry called.

"Yeah fine," she re-entered the office where Steve had finished making the coffee and was handing out the lunches from the fridge. "Rob's taking me to meet Rufus on Sunday."

Gerry and Steve exchanged meaningful looks with their boss while Brian simply responded with a statement he had made once before: "I used to have a hamster called Rufus."


	15. Interviews and Confessions

_Hiya, to make up for being away this weekend I present possibly the soppiest line I have ever written. Look out for it! And enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Interviews and Confessions**

"I mean, I don't take no bloody crap from anyone, right?"

Sandra held in a sigh. Interviews were going well. She was just glad they hadn't started with _this new unit, no blacks, right?_ like they had ten years ago. She glanced at Gerry who was clearly wishing there was an ashtray present in the room like there had been all that time ago. _We'd rather you didn't actually_. They still had one more to go after this. She'd been on auto-pilot since half-way through the first. She didn't know what she was looking for. She didn't know anything.

Gerry thanked the candidate and showed him out. He nodded to the next person waiting and said "Won't be a moment." Then he sank back in his chair and groaned, "Was it this hard last time?"

"Yes," Sandra agreed with her eyes closed. The room was getting stuffy, she'd had a headache all day and now she felt sick. "Only at least then it wasn't to replace anyone. It was just…crap."

When she and Jack had interviewed for the initial UCOS team she had been a different person. She remembered the suits she used to wear; how she'd always have her hair up; how she was always in command. She had been top dog. Until she'd shot one. _It's her isn't it? Woof, woof, bang bang!_ SO19. It felt like a lifetime ago.

To her right, Rob Strickland leant forward and placed a hand on hers; she opened her eyes and looked at him in slight surprise. They weren't opposed to acting like a couple in front of Mia and Bella, but Gerry was in the room. He didn't care about that though, he was worried. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Come on, let's have the last one."

"Right," Gerry pulled himself up. He was as concerned as Strickland seemed to be that Sandra had been slowly getting quieter and paler throughout the morning. The man was taking the whole unit out for lunch after this. And he was going for a cigarette after this last one, he thought as he showed the candidate in; introduced everyone and offered them a seat before taking his place for this final charade.

"So, cutting straight to the point, why do you want to come back to work?" Sandra asked after a few initial questions. The feeling in her stomach and head told her that she couldn't stay in the room much longer before she would feel like the walls were actually moving in on her.

"I think there's a lot to be said for keeping active as you get older," the candidate replied with a smile. "And having researched the unit, I think I could be an asset to you."

"Ok, thank you very much, do you have any questions?" Sandra asked, swallowing slightly. She could feel the concerned glances of the two men who knew her best in the world. She didn't want them to be worried. It was bad enough that she could feel the stirrings of fear within the back offices of her own mind. Concentrating on appearing professional in front of their interviewee, she readied herself for any questions they might have.

"Do I have to wear a suit?"

Sandra closed her eyes again as Gerry showed their new recruit out. It wasn't official yet, she would ring them all this afternoon, but she had a feeling that they had found what they were looking for. She'd had to hold in the desire to laugh out loud at the only question that had been posed to them. Jack and Gerry had automatically worn suits, apart from the odd occasion (like when Gerry decided he needed to update his image) from the beginning. Brian had always objected to wearing a suit and it had never been a problem. The question had made her smile, properly, for the first time in the morning.

Rob stood up and stretched. Fairly sure that the decision would be swift and mutual, he walked a small circle around the room to wake his senses back up and opened a window. Perching on the edge of the desk in front of Sandra he softly spoke her name.

She opened her eyes. It was too bright.

"Are you ok?" he reached out and brushed a hair from her cheek. If he was honest, he'd been quietly anxious about her for a few days now. She'd been quiet, distant, away in her own thoughts. He hadn't liked to pry, knowing that she had a lot of things to think about. The physical manifestation of pain that was etched around her eyes as she battled with the headache that he knew had been getting worse since she'd first mentioned it at breakfast.

She shook her head.

"Ok," he said softly. "You go and get some air. Gerry and me will tidy up in here. I'll come find you. The last one?"

She nodded, she leant on the desk to stand and accepted his peck on the cheek. Offering a vaguely reassuring smile to Gerry whose face was as troubled as Rob's, she escaped the room.

There was no-one else in the ladies toilets as she splashed water on her face and looked in the mirror. "Why?" she asked her reflection. She knew what was happening; if she was honest, she knew. Her body was telling her what her brain had already figured out. She smiled sadly at the face looking back at her; she noted every line, every wrinkle and dimple, how forty-eight years of sights and memories kept their shadows behind her blue eyes. She'd always liked her eyes. She was old. Sighing, she knew that Rob would be waiting for her outside.

She made her way up to the roof. There was no-one about. It was their spot. It was where they had first kissed. Where he had told her about Mia and Bella. Where she had fallen in love completely with him. There had always been something, but it had been that morning, that moment, when she had known. She gazed out over the horizon thinking about everything and nothing until he arrived discreetly behind her.

"Penny?"

She turned and fell into his arms. The tears that she would have held back two months ago fell freely onto the lapel of his jacket as she shivered in his grasp. It wasn't cold in his embrace; but she felt as cool as an iceberg as he rubbed his hand slowly over her shoulders.

"Sandra, what's wrong?" he whispered as he rested his chin against the top of her head. "I know it's hard to think about replacing Brian, he's one of your best friends…"

She sniffed as she pulled back slightly. She met his eye as she steadied her breathing and shook her head. "It's not that," her voice was light. She bit her lip. "It's not. Well, it is a bit, I suppose."

She pulled away from him and turned back to the railing; London looked so big, it was so big. The world was so big. She and Rob and UCOS were so small, but they meant more to her than any of the stories on the television or the newspapers that might be heard. "I can't take the Dawson job," she said simply into the breeze. "It's been too long. I'm too out of touch with procedure and systems that don't work. UCOS works because we work together the only way we can, which is by knowing each other and by caring about what we do. I can't work in the mainstream again. It scares me, dealing with relatives who've just lost the ones they love. It's not easier ten, twenty, thirty years down the line; but … I don't know, maybe they don't ask as many questions."

He held back. He knew she wasn't finished yet. There was something so unsophisticated, uncomplicated, naïve and fascinating about her speaking her thoughts that created a charming allure that he would be damned to interrupt.

"It's not that it would be harder work. Or that I think that other coppers don't care. They do, I know they do. Coppers care, otherwise there wouldn't be Gerrys and Jacks and Brians. But in the crowd there's also so many idiots like we met this morning. Like we meet almost every time we re-open a case. There are coppers who are lazy, who are rushed, who don't care. And is that because they run out of time? Because they're being brow-beaten by targets and clear-ups and man-power? Do I want to deal with all that? To run the risk of it being my name on a case file that got left unsolved because I didn't have the resources? To let some poor woman down because I couldn't tell her why her child is dead? I've seen that sort of pressure destroy people, good people. I work with them everyday. It's not that I don't think I could handle it. The only reason I couldn't is because I don't want to. And there's people out there, people who've known me in the past who'll say that I should do it because it's what I should be doing. But why? I'm not that person anymore. I was always going somewhere. What if I'm there? Now?"

The thoughts and emotions spilled out in a mosaic of questions and half-thought through ideas. She didn't even know what she was asking or thinking. She turned to him. "I'm sorry, I can't take the job."

Now was the time. He stepped toward her and placed both hands on her arms. "You don't need to apologise," he assured her.

"I do," she struggled with the next words. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"Do what?" he asked. He held her firmly, forcing her to face him and his question.

"Any of it," she tried to shake his hands off but he refused to let go as she grappled with the jagged edges of her life since Jack had left them. "I don't know who I'm meant to be anymore."

She buried her head in his shoulder again as he hugged her tightly.

"Sssh," he breathed. "I'm sorry. I should never have suggested that you go for promotion. I just didn't want UCOS to become a graveyard of memories rather than your office. You are, whoever you want to be. You are Sandra Pullman; the smartest, most beautiful woman I have ever met. You're one of the best coppers I've ever known and I am blessed every day that I have known you."

She sniffed and lifted her head to look at him. He smiled.

"What?" she frowned at his smile.

"You just reminded me of Mia, that's all," he sighed. "It's all been thrown at you rather hasn't it?"

"You shoot one bloody dog," she murmured.

Rob stroked her cheek. "You can spend your whole life looking for the moment when everything changed. Trying to pinpoint the action that changed the signals on the track but …"

"That seems like a bit of a waste," she agreed with his hypothesis.

He nodded and tipped his head forward. Their lips met as they relived one of those very moments that they had experienced together.

"That one wasn't," she said allusively as she settled on the sofa beside him that evening.

"What one wasn't?" he asked, putting his newspaper to one side. Bella was asleep, Mia was out at a friend's birthday party, they had the flat to themselves.

"Those moments when everything changes," she slipped her legs over his lap. "On the roof, that day. When we first kissed. I like thinking about that moment, and I'm not wasting my time when I do it."

"Oh?" he asked as he ran his hand behind her shoulders. "Why not?"

"Because that's the moment when I fell in love with you," her eyes held the sad hint of tears even as she remembered the terrifying fear that had gripped her as she'd been caught between capturing the feeling of he moment and running from it.

There weren't words to describe the emotion that Robert Strickland felt upon hearing her admission. It was something that he'd never felt before. The only thing to pull his thoughts away from the tap-dance they were performing somewhere above cloud nine was her next utterance.

"When do you think you fell in love with me?"

She almost regretted the words as soon as they came out. They sounded so needy, _I don't do needy_. But there had always been an honesty in their relationship that allowed such blunt questions to be aired. The first night she had been around his flat he'd asked her when she'd let someone hold her. That was why it was an almost regret as she waited for his answer. When it came, she melted. And as they fell asleep on the sleepable sofa after they had relived another of those moments where everything had changed, his reply ran round her mind:

"I fell in love with you yesterday. I fell in love with you this morning, today. I shall fall in love with you tomorrow. And every tomorrow, if you'll let me. I fall in love with you every moment I'm with you."


	16. Hertfordshire (part one)

_Hiya, so weekend dealt with, here's the next part. It's split in two because it kinda went somewhere… the next part will be up later tonight if all goes well. Thanks for reading and reviewing, enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Hertfordshire**

"It's very grand," Sandra held in a gasp as Robert drove into the school grounds. It had only taken them about half an hour to get to the boarding school where his children had spent most of their childhood. It wasn't nearly as terrifying to approach as the idea of meeting her …boyfriend's? son; though she had always imagined boarding schools to be.

"Sixteenth century," Mia said putting on a posh and disdainful voice in the back seat as she looked up at the sand-brick buildings.

Sandra turned in her seat to see the disgruntled look on the teenager's face.

"Some of it. Some of the teachers too," the youngster added rolling her eyes. "Did I really have to come? Why couldn't we meet Rufs in town or something?"

"You know why," Robert growled. He loved his daughter, of course he did, but she had been moaning about coming all morning. Apparently when she had told him to ring her brother she hadn't meant that she ought to make a return visit to her old school. "He's got to be signed out because he was playing football yesterday," he turned to Sandra. "Only one day off at the weekend. You know that," he added to the sulking reflection of his daughter in the rear-view mirror.

Sandra smiled sympathetically at Mia. She never wanted to set foot in her old school again either. Though for slightly different reasons. She hadn't actually be thrown out of hers; though many of her classmates might have liked her to be.

Pulling into a parking space in front of the senior school dorms, Robert took a breath and looked around at his girls. "Right?" he asked trying to install some enthusiasm into the situation. Truth be told he was slightly apprehensive himself, it had been almost a year since he had last seen his son. "Are we ready for this?"

"No," Mia grumbled. She sighed as her father's face darkened. "Ok, ok, we're ready," she corrected herself with a smile and set about unclipping Bella's carrycot from its shackles.

"Bella?" Robert asked as the baby stirred from its nap. He knew Mia had every right to not want to be here, but it had been her idea. He smiled as bright open eyes found the direction of his voice and pink baby lips opened to emit a 'perip' sound; as close as she had got to saying 'grand-pops'. "Good. Sandra?"

"As I'll ever be," she smiled shyly as she unclipped her seat belt.

"Hey, it's my son. He won't bite," he assured her, lightly resting his hand on her thigh for a moment. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

Sandra and Mia exchanged doubtful glances as Rob got out of the car and looked around the buildings to either side of him.

"I told him ten o'clock," he muttered as the rest of his family vacated the car. "Ah, there… is that him?"

Sandra squinted in the direction he was looking. Sure enough a lanky fourteen year old wearing designer jeans and a logo'd hoody was walking towards them. The expression on the lad's face was as apprehensive as her own. It didn't bode well.

"Alright, Dad," the clipped precision of his voice was tighter than Rob's. He hadn't the soft edge that age and experience had given to his father's tones. His hair was longer, but it was the same brown as Rob's and in a similar style. Eyes brown like his sister's (and presumably their mother's) narrowed slightly in an expression of suspicion that she recognised whenever her boss questioned her actions.

It was the most awkward moment in time that she had ever witnessed. He didn't sound pleased to see them. His face was stony. This was a bad idea, she thought to herself. If it wasn't for the fact that she loved Robert Strickland, she wouldn't be having to meet his family. She watched as Rob's face fell. She wanted to be able to take control of the situation, but even if she had been in a position to do so she wouldn't have known what to do. So she stood in silence behind where Mia holding Bella's cot stood to Robert's left in front of the boot of the car.

"Too easy," the lad grinned suddenly and barrelled at his father who responded quickly enough that the two of them were soon reunited in a great bear-hug. Sandra felt the warmth of their reunion from her position, she smiled at Rob as the young lad released him.

"Mia!" Rufus turned on his sister with a goofy grin. "You are in soooo much trouble! Tommy Harrison says you still owe him a dance and Rainey Thomas is after your life for that dress you ruined!"

Mia rolled her eyes and looked to Sandra who took hold of Bella's cot as she hugged her younger brother.

"So," Rufus looked to the two strangers in the group. Suddenly Sandra wished she was staring down John Felsham all over again.

"Uncle Rufus," Mia said formally. "May I introduce you to your niece? Annabella Marie Strickland. Bella, this is your Uncle Rufs!"

Bella looked decidedly non-plussed. Robert and Rufus both laughed; the same deep mirth that was at once infectious and rich with life.

"Hello Annabella," Rufus held out a hand to the child. Bella hesitated for a moment then slapped it. Rufus laughed. "Hi, five!" he joked. "And you must be…"

She was five years old. Standing in front of the headteacher without an alibi for her whereabouts when Karen Kirk's _Dandy_ had been flushed down the toilet.

"Rufus," Robert took the lead and walked to stand in between Mia and Sandra on the other side of the car. He took a breath, he wanted his son to meet Sandra, he wanted his son to like Sandra. "This is Sandra."

Rufus nodded. It was a simple gesture. What else could they expect? It took enough of an edge off of the tension that she could greet him back.

"Hi," Sandra managed to say before her throat closed up fearfully again.

"Pleasure," Rufus held out a hand, which she shook. "So are you…?"

"She's a policewoman," Mia sensed the tension growing and stole the control that had apparently abandoned the two most sensible people she knew. "They met at work."

"Na…" Bella burbled as if to remind them that Sandra was a part of the family, not just someone from work.

The four of them turned to the child, wiggling in her seat and waving at her nana. She'd been starting to make more intelligible noises recently but this was the first time she'd added gestures to the sounds that didn't indicate that she wanted some particular toy. Mia was overcome with maternal pride as she smiled at her baby who had just dispelled the awkwardness of the situation slightly.

"Right," Rufus said simply. "Do you want to come in then?"

"Is your room tidy?" Rob asked with a wink.

"I thought we could hang in the common room for a bit," Rufus neatly avoided his father's question. "That's usually where parents go."

"Hermione Strickland?"

"Oh god," Mia muttered. The party turned to see one of the teachers striding towards them.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've come to visit my brother, Miss," Mia returned, readying herself for a fight. This was why she hadn't wanted to come. This was a day for her brother to meet the woman her dad loved, not for her to cause any of them embarrassment.

"Oh," the woman who, Sandra noted, did resemble a sixteenth century nun, said. "And is this?"

"My dad, Robert Strickland and his girlfriend, Sandra. And of course you know Rufus," Mia bit back the urge to hunt for some blunt object to bludgeon the woman with and settled instead for polite introductions with just a tint of 'bugger-off-and-leave-off'.

"I see," the woman replied shortly.

"And this is my daughter, Annabella," Mia had straightened herself to her full height which was a full six inches shorter than her father but still two inches taller than the witch in front of her. Sandra and Robert had deduced quickly that this woman was at least one of the reasons Mia hadn't wanted to set foot on school grounds. She suddenly felt a surge of protectiveness towards the daughter that wasn't hers while he, temper bristling, summoned all of his trained diplomacy and guarded his eldest child from getting herself thrown out for a second time.

"Nice to meet you," he stepped forward with his hand outstretched.

Mia took a step backwards to be closer to the rest of them. Rufus took a protective step forward so that he could intervene if his sister did decide to launch forward and land a well-deserving right-hook; he noted as he did though that Mia had taken hold of Sandra's hand. If her thumb had been in her mouth too, she'd have been six years old again.

"I'm sure," the woman said without shaking his hand. "Well, I'll leave you to enjoy your stay. Don't forget that you have a prep class at four Mr. Strickland," she added pointedly in Rufus' direction.

"We'll try not to keep him too long," Sandra smiled politely and offered the air of a woman who was very concerned that all classes, even those on a Sunday (of all days) should be taken very seriously.

To his credit the lad managed to smile and add his own thanks to the sixteenth-century-nun-witch for the reminder before she mercifully left them in peace.

"Who was that?" Robert raised his eyebrows as he turned back to his family.

"Miss Tomlinson," Rufus supplied. "She's the one who…"

"Asked me to leave," Mia finished. "Erm, I just need to get Bella's things out the car. Senior Common Room, right?"

Rufus nodded.

"Dad?" Mia took Bella from Sandra and looked at her dad.

"Right, we'll catch you up."

Rufus nodded and indicated with a hand that Sandra could come with him. He held in a laugh as his dad's girlfriend shot his dad a terrified glance before leaving the others behind them as they walked across to the door to the dorms and common rooms.

"You ok?" Rob asked softly as Mia opened the boot and laid out the changing mat.

"Yeah, I just, I'll just change her," she was shaking.

Placing the carry-cot beside the mat in the spacious cavern of his boot he laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Mia?"

"I really hate that woman," she gritted her teeth. "And it's, it's not about us, not today."

He watched on in silent confusion as Mia changed the baby's nappy. When she had finished she cuddled the child close to her.

"How do you mean?"

They both looked at him. Mia glanced at Bella, as if asking her opinion. Either he was going a little crazy or the child nodded back. "Today's about seeing Rufus," she said simply.

He watched her for a moment then picked up the carry cot and the bag. He lowered the boot and locked the car.

"Dad," she interrupted the path he was about to take toward the building.

"You don't have to ask us, you know," she shrugged as she looked at him with open brown eyes. "You know what we think."

"Come on," Rob rubbed her shoulder. Sometimes he found it hard to remember that his daughter was only sixteen. Except for her attitude when they had arrived. That had reminded him of every tantrum she'd ever had as a toddler. He smiled. "Let's go rescue them from awkward small talk, shall we?"

Sandra was quite proud of herself. She'd managed to meet the son without saying anything stupid (even if that had been thanks to Bella); follow him to the Common Room without tripping over anything; and begin a conversation about what subjects he was studying without setting fire to anything. Luckily as his list of subjects came to an end, the others joined them. Rob gave her the 'everything-ok?' look, to which she smiled and squeezed his hand while Mia distracted Rufus by entrusting him with holding his niece for the first time.

"She's really small," Rufus observed as he took in every feature of the little girl in his arms.

"She's a baby, Rufs," Mia grinned. "You should have seen her when she was born!"

Rob smiled proudly. Sure his family were getting some looks from the handful of other people in the Common Room, but he couldn't be happier that they were all together and getting on. He provoked some standard talk about school and football from his son. He questioned when his son had become a Manchester United supporter. "But Tottenham…" was however, all he could summon as an argument.

"Hi Mia," a tall, dark haired lad who had been about to walk straight past paused as he recognised Rob's daughter.

She turned from where she had been standing up, about to take Bella from Rufus. Brown eyes met brown eyes. "Darren," she smiled cautiously. "Hi."

"How you been?" he asked quietly.

Poking Rob gently in the ribs, Sandra stopped him from staring at the pair of them. It was clear to her that here was one person Mia wasn't adverse to seeing again. While engaging Rob and Rufus in a new line of conversation to offer Mia some privacy, she kept one ear to the simple exchange.

"Ok," Mia answered carefully. "How are you?"

"Alright," he smiled shyly. "It's good to see you."

"You too," she said sincerely.

"Sorry," he motioned to the rest of the group.

"It's ok," Mia assured him as she looked round. Rob met his daughter's eye. She sniffed and turned slightly so that her back was to them as the lad excused himself.

"You alright with her, son?" Rob asked Rufus as Bella squirmed in his young arms.

"Yeah?" Rufus replied uncertainly, pulling an exaggerated version of Rob's 'I haven't the foggiest clue what I'm going' face. All three females laughed as Mia turned back to them. Father and son looked at each other and shrugged. Mia glanced at Sandra who nodded and leant forward, gently relieving Rufus of his wiggling burden.

"So who was that?" Rob asked casually. He deliberately kept his tone light and looked away from her as he spoke.

"Darren Holmes," Mia replied calmly sitting down.

"You know, if you want to go catch up with some of your friends you can," Rob looked at her as she squirmed in her seat.

"I don't have any friends here anymore," she replied bluntly. "There's only Darren and Rufus who are still speaking to me."

"And that's only because I have to," Rufus quipped quickly, grinning at his sister who responded with a tranquil smile of her own.

Sandra looked between them as she tried to put Bella's sock back on her foot. They were a lot alike in looks; aside from their matching brown eyes they were a lot like Robert. Personality wise, she already knew how like her father Mia was; Rufus shared his laugh and his diplomatic skills if the two external interruptions were anything to go by. She couldn't be sure what he thought of her: probably not a lot, she reasoned, he was fourteen; his father's love-life probably didn't interest him that much, or cross his mind.

"Darren was in the crash," Rufus looked at his dad who was clearly uneasy at Mia's new excuse for not saying much.

"What crash?" Sandra asked frowning as she passed Bella to Mia.

"About a year ago," Rufus explained. "Four sixth formers were in a car crash. Two of them died, one of them never came back to school. Darren's parents made him come back last term. He's resitting his a-levels."

"Did you know the others?" Rob inquired. As neutral as his tone was, Sandra knew that something had been woken in the man.

Mia tried to put all her attention into tying the fake laces on Bella's socks but it wasn't working. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I knew them."


	17. Hertfordshire (part two)

_Right, warning, this chapter contains some disturbing references to something very horrible happening._

_Sorry. Happy cuteness will be returning soon! Jessie xx_

**Hertfordshire (cont.)**

Sandra glanced between the four Stricklands. Rufus looked like he was on the edge of saying something; Mia looked as if she wanted the chair to suddenly drop through the floor and take her and Bella with it; Bella was staring curiously at her mum, probably wondering why her socks were suddenly so interesting; Rob meanwhile looked as if he wanted to ask a hell of a lot of questions all in one go and was finding it hard to find where to start.

"They don't know, do they? Mia?" Rufus broke the stalemate.

"Is there somewhere we could go that's I don't know, a bit more private maybe?" Sandra interrupted quickly as she watched the two she knew better struggle to contain conflicting emotions.

"What don't we know?" Robert's voice was low, dangerous if you didn't know him, woundful if you did. Sandra could feel the hurt and confusion even though she didn't understand it.

"Nothing," Mia lied hopefully looking into her father's eyes. "Or, maybe not nothing…" she trailed off.

"What do you mean nothing?" Rufus exploded quietly, mindful that even if the walls didn't have ears, there were still other people in the room. "Digger Thomas…"

"You knew these people, who were they? They were sixth-formers, how did you know them?" he asked suddenly, quickly. The pace of his voice, still quiet, betrayed his need to know the truth of why his daughter had become so abruptly unresponsive. "Mia," Robert spoke her name, willing her to look at him, to tell him. If he was honest with himself, he knew what he was about to hear, and he knew he didn't want to hear it. But he needed to hear it. She hadn't told him exactly why she'd left school, thinking back he hadn't asked. He'd assumed, naively, that she'd been kicked out for getting pregnant. He'd believed her, when she'd admitted it had been at a party. He'd let himself believe that she'd been drunk, stupid. But his daughter wasn't stupid. She knew that he wanted to marry Sandra. She wasn't stupid.

"Digger Thomas," Rufus rapidly answered one of his father's harried questions. "He was the one who got thrown out. He was driving. He was the one who…"

"Rufs," Mia begged with a strangled whisper.

"Mia," he looked hopelessly between his sister and his dad.

"There was a gang of us," she spoke so suddenly and so quietly that the others had to strain to hear her. "Darren, me, Helena Mathers, Chris Cunningham, Lewis Tanner, Rainey Thomas, Tommy Harrison, Daniel Richards and Digger Thomas."

She reeled off the list, each name coming freely to her mind as she recalled those people she had called her friends until a time so recent yet a lifetime ago. Most of them, she hadn't thought about in the last year, apart from Daniel Richards and Darren Holmes, the only two who had meant more than someone to lark about with. Digger Thomas was a boy she never wanted to think about again. The venom in her tone as she spoke his name scared her. She never wanted to talk about him again. She had never wanted her dad to find out this. She couldn't look up.

"Some of them were sixth-formers, the rest were my age. We used to hang out. In the Common Rooms, in town," she sniffed as she paused, lost in her narrative. "I don't know where to start."

She looked up and sought the one pair of eyes she needed to find; the one person who at that moment she needed to give her the power to explain everything that she should have explained six months previously but couldn't bring herself to. Blue eyes softened kindly as they met her gaze, Sandra offered a kindly smile as she sat forward in her seat and motioned to take Bella.

"It's ok," Sandra said softly, gathering Bella into her arms and nodding at Mia, once the baby was settled on her lap she placed a hand on Robert's knee; his face was set in a grim expression. "Take your time. Start wherever you need to. We're not going anywhere."

Mia returned Sandra's nod and took a breath. "There was a party," she looked at her dad. "But I wasn't drunk. Me and Daniel, we'd gotten to know each other. We liked each other. But Digger Thomas couldn't have that. He was the top dog. If he didn't have a girlfriend, Daniel couldn't have one. The girls teased him, whenever Daniel and me kissed, he'd be looking at us. It didn't seem to bother him that Helena and Tommy were seeing each other; and Rainey was his sister. He teased Daniel a lot, I think he though Daniel was the geek, the one who shouldn't get a girlfriend. They had a massive fight that night. He shouldn't have been driving anyway, he'd been drinking so much. But he insisted on it and insisted that Daniel get a lift with him."

"So that's why you got thrown out?" Robert couldn't stand to hear anymore. He didn't want to hear anymore. The entire time Mia had been speaking, the dragon of guilt and fear that he thought had been tamed had been waking and rearing inside him with all the vigour of his youth and anger. So much anger. Untamed, un-harnessed, unleashed. At the one person he didn't feel any anger towards at all. "Because you were in his, this Digger Thomas' gang? I thought it was because you got pregnant?"

"No," she whispered, biting back the tears. She didn't know whether they were tears of fear of what was going to come or sadness at reliving what had been. She didn't want her father to be angry. He'd been her tower of strength for the last six months; she didn't want to ruin that. She didn't want to hurt him.

Sandra kept a steady beat playing on Bella's knee with her fingertips to distract the child from the pitched distress between the others. She threw a glance toward Rufus who was watching the exchange intently; he appeared torn between butting and running away. She found looking at the other two hard; Mia was on the verge of tears, something that Sandra had never witnessed before. Robert's demeanour burned a fury that she had never seen before either. The conclusion of this conversation pushed at the boundaries of civilised common room dialogue. There was no way of easing the pain or coercing a speedy u-turn. The truth would spill like oil on the ocean of their lives, indelible, inconceivable, unavoidable.

"I didn't get thrown out because I was pregnant," Mia sniffed as the tears began to roll unbidden down her cheeks. "I got thrown out because I accused Digger Thomas of raping me."

Robert was barely aware of Sandra's hand on his knee. He wouldn't have noticed if the room had turned to jelly and all its occupants to marshmallow people. His heart was cold now, veins and arteries had turned to ice and every blood cell made of jagged glass cut as it passed through his body of stone. The dragon raged. But he couldn't speak.

"I didn't know about the crash," she brushed angrily at her cheeks as they became damp. "Darren got me a taxi. I didn't know. The matron asked me where I'd been, when I got back. I started crying and told her what had happened. How he'd been drunk, teasing me about Daniel, pushed me into the toilets, how he'd … That Digger Thomas had … I didn't know then. She took me in the morning to the hospital. That's when I found out about Bella. She was already there," she looked up at her father's tortured face. "She was already there."

Sandra watched as Rob's tightened jaw trembled slightly.

"When we got back to the school, we found out about the crash. It was all so sad, and so messy… and then when it came about what Digger had done to me, it was all so horrible. I just got told over and over again not to speak ill of the dead…"

"Never mind what he'd done to you," Rufus couldn't stay silent any longer. "Why didn't you tell them?"

Mia shook her head and brushed yet more tears from her cheeks.

Robert closed his eyes.

Sandra gently applied a light pressure to where her hand rested still on his knee. "It's ok," she whispered. "Mia, Robert. It's ok."

"Na…prip…ma, ma, ma!" Bella squirmed uncomfortably in her Nana's lap. Her family was unhappy, she didn't like it.

"Here," Mia whispered. "I'll take her."

Robert barely looked up as his granddaughter was passed over his lap. "You knew?" he growled at Rufus.

"Yeah," the boy replied quietly. "We weren't exactly on speaking terms, Dad. Mum didn't want us speaking to you. And after Mia had to leave school, she made sure I wasn't to tell you anything."

"What did she do, threaten to take your x-box away?" Rob snarled. "I'm your dad, didn't I have the right to know?"

"Dad, please?" Mia pleaded.

"Does she know we're here today?" Robert asked. He couldn't focus. It was like one of those days when his to-do list normally scribbled on a post-it mutated onto the back of an envelope. When the phone wouldn't stop ringing, e-mails piled up and the red-wire intray on his desk formed a tidal wave and threatened to take over his desk. Only instead of cases, colleagues, commissioners and shopping lists; today was a nightmarish hall of mirrors where every place he looked to was a shattered image of happiness that he didn't have the strength to deal with.

"Yeah," Rufus admitted. "She's not happy about it."

With a massive effort Rob managed not to tell his son exactly what he thought of his ex-wife's privileges to happiness ought to be. "Shall we go out somewhere for lunch?" he asked instead.

Sandra felt that it might take something stronger than turpentine to remove the look of shock that was surely plastered all over her face as Robert looked calmly around each member of his family seeking a response to what might in other circumstances be a perfectly reasonable question.

"I'll, I'll need to be signed out," Rufus said.

"Ok, great, let's go get that sorted," Robert stood up. "Meet you girls by the car? Good."

Rufus led his father to the admin offices of the school where he could get signed out. Sandra looked at Mia. It was her seventeenth birthday next month. Not for the first time she marvelled at how strong the child was. She bit her lip, trying to summon the words that would be right. There weren't any though.

"I'm sorry," was all she could say.

"No," Mia shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"It isn't," Sandra said firmly. "None of this is your fault."

Mia bent down to pick up the carry cot and put it on the table in front of her, she positioned her five-month old daughter in the seat and strapped her in. "Is that what you have to say?" she asked without malice. "When women come to you and tell you they were raped. Is that what you have to say? It's ok, it's not your fault. Does it make any difference? Do you think it helps them to hear it? Because I'm not sure it does. Sure enough, some women might feel like the whole disgusting dirty business was their fault. Like they've been punished for being bad people, or for something that they've done. It's not their fault because it was a bad man that did it to them. The truth is, there are people that do bad things. And that bad things happen to good people as well as bad. Digger Thomas raped me. Digger Thomas died. He took the boy I loved with him. But Bella and me, we're here. And we should have told Dad right from the start. We should have gone to him right from the start. Do you know why we didn't? Because I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to hear him say that it wasn't my fault. I couldn't cope with him being the policeman. I needed him to be my dad."

"He is," Sandra choked as she picked up Bella's bag and rolled the car keys over in her hand.

Mia stood up. "Come on. There's a fantastic chocolate shop in town; your mum would love their biscuits."

By the time they reached the car, Robert and Rufus were deep in discussion about football once more. Sandra smiled, it reminded her of the time Brian had found out about his Mark's 'second team' _How can you have a second team?_ He had fumed about that for days. Even by the end of lunch and three different topics of conversation about holidays, America and blushing through Rob's explanation of what UCOS did; Sandra still couldn't see Rob buying Rufus the new Man U shirt for his birthday. Mia led them to the shop that Sandra had to admit was definitely what heaven looked like if heaven was made of chocolate. They spent far too much on chocolate; though Sandra did reason that if she accidently let slip about the place and didn't provide samples for the boys, she'd be in more trouble than it was worth. Mia picked a packet of seemingly normal chocolate-covered biscuits, assuring Sandra that they were in fact the best and that her mother would love them. Sandra opted to bow to the girl's judgement; she had a feeling that they could be the worst biscuits in the world but if told that Mia had chosen them and not Sandra, Grace would find them delicious. Grace Pullman had taken a shine to Robert's family, that was for sure, Sandra allowed her mind to meander as Robert bade goodbye to Rufus back at the school. Mia was settling Bella back into the car and Sandra was checking her phone. She could just make them out in the mirror of the sunshade. Two tall, slim figures of familial similarity in the background, talking.

"I'm sorry you had to go through so much without me," Robert said seriously having failed once more to highlight the virtues of Tottenham Hotspurs. He'd spent the afternoon conscious of every syllable uttered by anyone else or expelled from his own lips. He could barely dare to touch at what he'd learnt that day. "You know, you can always ring me, anytime, anything. I'm your dad."

Rufus nodded.

"Are you happy here?" Rob asked. He had always allowed himself to believe that his ex-wife had been looking after his children. Today's revelations showed him that he had been a fool to think that. He knew that he needed to help Mia, but he had to be sure that Rufus was ok too.

Rufus shrugged. "It's not for long. Look, I didn't want to tell you but Mum's moving to the States."

Robert sighed, he laid a hand on his son's shoulder. Sometimes he wondered… so many things. He bit back his now tired anger. "I think I need to ring your mother."

Rufus sighed. "Yeah, probably. Anyway, it was good to see you. And to meet Sandra. She's alright."

"Yeah," Robert couldn't help his smile as he remembered their reason for coming. Even after having the stability of his world destroyed, he still had to face the fact that he needed his son's approval. "Listen, there's something I want to ask you, about Sandra. I know you've only met her this one time, but she means a lot to me."

"Dad," Rufus interrupted. "You don't have to ask my permission."

Robert studied his son for a moment. In many ways, Rufus took after his mother far more than Mia did. The lad's blaze way of handling things for instance; but both of them knew him better than she ever had. He loved them both. He wanted to help them both. He wanted the best for them.

"But thanks," Rufus shrugged. "Now get, before this gets soppy, right?"

"I'll see you soon," Rob promised hugging his son tightly. However his family had become so torn, he was determined to fix it. Somehow. Even though he felt like he'd been on a tumultuous rollercoaster of time stopping and starting since they had arrived in Hertfordshire; the half-hour drive home promised to be the longest half an hour of the day.


	18. Yesterday I was Fishing

**Yesterday I was fishing.**

They would have driven back in total silence if Rob had been able to stand it. As it was he put the radio on while he drove, full concentration on the road. Bella fell asleep, as she usually did in the car. Sandra and Mia seemed occupied with their phones at various points, or with whatever happened to be passing outside the window. Unloading the car and walking up to the flat, the silence between them became oppressive once again.

"Right," he dropped his keys on the table. "Mia why don't you and Sandra take Bella out for a walk; get some fresh air. Get some fish and chips for tea," he rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a ten pound note and handed it to them.

Sandra looked at her watch, it was only half past four. "What about you?" she asked.

"I'm not hungry," he said simply not looking at her.

She looked at Mia, who lowered her eyes to the floor and swallowed. "Dad…"

"I need to ring your mother," he managed to state. He couldn't turn around and look at any of them. The first thing to do was to ring his ex-wife. He didn't blame Mia for not telling him. He didn't blame Rufus. He needed to ring the one person who he could apportion at least some of the blame to.

"Come on," Sandra said quietly. She pulled the pushchair out from where it stood by the coat rack and brushed a few stray particles of dust from the seat. Taking the cot from Mia, she unclipped Bella and transferred the baby from one chariot to another.

"Dad…" Mia began again.

Rob turned around. "Come here," he whispered, opening his arms to her; she responded by covering the ground between them as if the few feet were mere millimetres. He held her close as he tried to steady his breath. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she whispered back, leaning against him. "It's ok."

He nodded as he released her and watched her take the handles of the pushchair and manoeuvre it out of the front door. He nodded as Sandra placed a warm and steady hand on his upper arm for a moment before she followed his daughter back outside. It was not ok.

Hearing the door close behind them, he plucked his phone from his jacket pocket before shrugging the coat off and hanging it up. He went into the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Then, settling himself calmly on the sofa, he scrolled through his contacts list until he found her name.

A man's voice holding just a tint of an American accent cheerfully answered, "_Helen's phone?"_

"Hi, is Helen there please?" Rob failed to achieve the same enthusiasm as his counterpart, but at least didn't sound quite like the grumpy bear he felt like; the dragon could be tamed again. "Yes, it's Robert."

He pulled at the laces on his shoes while the man obliged by finding the woman Rob needed to speak to. As her voice met his ear, he realised he didn't even know where to begin.

"He'll be alright, you know," Mia said quietly as they walked along; heading up the street.

"Shouldn't it be me telling you that?" Sandra asked gently.

Mia looked at her and smiled. "Maybe."

They turned the corner and entered the park behind the supermarket. Mia sighed and stopped at the bench. She checked that Bella was happily looking about her surroundings before sitting down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sandra asked as she sat beside the girl. It felt strange not to be in a professional capacity; though thankfully she had only spent a brief spell working rape cases. It was a feeling of not knowing; not knowing how best to be supportive of the girl she had quickly come to love as a daughter. Should she want to demand to know the details, track down the boy's parents and string them up from the nearest tall obstruction? Part of her felt like that, and she knew that Robert shared those feelings. Should she want to request an exhumation so that the boy who had caused the harm could be post-humorously hanged drawn and quartered like he deserved? Because he definitely deserved it. All she wanted to do was to take Mia in her arms and promise her that nothing bad would ever happen to her again. But that would be a falsehood; a promise that would inevitably be broken through no fault of either of theirs. It was strange; all she wanted… was to know what to do.

Mia shook her head slightly as she lifted it so that she could watch the clouds. "I did love Daniel," she said quietly after a time. "I know that sounds silly. It's always love when you're fifteen, isn't it?"

"Where did you hear that?" Sandra smiled.

Mia looked at her and shrugged. "My mother screamed it at me when I tried to explain the … everything. Rufus is a lot like her. They think a lot, then they scream and shout like toddlers. The whole world is their world. If something happens to interfere with that, hell to it. Me and Dad, we're different. We fall in love," she sighed. "And we don't always know the right words, because we don't think it through. But we know what we feel. Mum and Rufus, they know what they think."

She leant forward and pulled the brown toy rabbit from the bag hung over the pushchair handles, offering it to Bella as she started to mumble.

"Digger Thomas was bad news," she continued. "Always was."

Sandra let the silence grow comfortably between them. She looked around the park: there was a man throwing a ball for his dog, which the dog happily bounded after and picked up, returning to the man to throw again; there was a middle-aged couple walking arm-in-arm, carrying on some private conversation oblivious to the rest of the world; there was an old man playing football with his grandson while his daughter watched. At the swings there was a mother and daughter pushing a young girl on a swing. It was like a park full of mirror-images of her own family. She turned her eyes back towards the reality of companions to find Mia's searching for hers. She lifted her arm and wrapped it around the girl as she leant into the hug. Biting her lip as Mia sniffed, it didn't feel strange anymore.

By the time they returned to the flat, fish and chips wrapped and bagged for the three of them, Robert was sulking in the dark. The dragon had reared, been attacked by a banshee and retreated to its lair to lick its wounds. Helen was moving to the States; she was taking Rufus; she didn't believe that Mia had been telling the truth; and she was a bitch. The only good thing that he could take comfort in was that she was his ex-wife. Emphasis on the ex. He barely looked up as the sounds of his family returning entered the flat. He did, however, register the lights being turned on and the smell of salt and vinegar assaulting his senses. Suddenly, he was ravenous. Feeding the dragon always helped.

"I know you said you weren't hungry," said the voice attached to the hand that warmly touched his shoulder. "But we thought a few chips wouldn't hurt."

He looked up into the loving oceanic eyes of the woman who had accepted him into her life, past and future mistakes forgiven and nodded. "Thank you."

She wouldn't ask if he was ok. She wouldn't press him to reveal the highlights of his afternoon. She would be there for him, when he was ready, as she had for his daughter. Mia's tears, long since dried, would remain scored in her heart until she was old and grey. The anguish and guilt she read in Robert's face would haunt her memories until the day she died. _Every event which touches those close to us is a part of our own history,_ she thought to herself as she pulled three plates out of the cupboard and warmed them in the microwave. _Every moment of coincidence in our lives, leads to the moment in which we're living._ They weren't words that she remembered reading in any book or hearing in any film, not verbatim; through her own eyes she saw the reality of a thousand clichés coming true and mutating into the philosophical chain of thought that persisted as they ate.

"I'm going to put Bella to bed," Mia stood up from the table. "Then I've got some homework to print out."

"Ok," Sandra smiled. "Leave your plate, I'll do them."

Robert watched as the highly regarded; highly driven; and formally phenomenally private Sandra Pullman took the dirty dinner plates from the table, washed them, dried them and put them away. In his kitchen! It was like a very topsy turvy dream where the improbably was simply life. He ran a hand over the top of his head and scratched at his greying hair. He allowed himself to smile at the subtle minutiae of life: he was going grey; Sandra was in his kitchen; yesterday he'd been fishing and making awkward conversation with Gerry Standing and Brian Lane. Steve was spending the weekend in Scotland. He'd lost a bet and had to buy the first round. What he wouldn't give to be reliving yesterday instead of reeling from today. Though that he knew was the real fantasy; reality was the impossible; and that was what he had to deal with.

"Penny?" she asked shyly. It wasn't an expression she used, but he did. He had the other day; when she had needed him. Now it was the other way around.

"I'm not sure I have any change," he looked up. She was leaning against the breakfast bar, studying him with a worried expression.

"I have," she smiled softly.

"You have," he responded thoughtfully, running his thumb along the underside of his jaw line where he could feel the beard he would shave tomorrow forming. "Sandra, I don't even know where to start."

"How did it go with Helen on the phone?" she crossed her arms and relaxed against the solid bar.

He snorted. "You know I can't believe I spent nearly ten years of my life with that woman."

"Well, then," she offered as a qualification.

He sighed. "She's got some top executive job at a firm with offices in New York. That's why they're moving. _His_ family is from there."

She acknowledged silently; he had told them shortly what Rufus had said before switching on the radio in the car. She waited patiently as she watched him gather his thoughts, discarding the least savoury and least relevant in order to form the sentences that he needed to speak.

"Yesterday," he frowned at the table-top. "I was fishing. I was so nervous about making conversation with Gerry and Brian; but it was so easy. We talked about fishing. And we just … fished. Then we went to the pub. Meeting your family was so much easier. We meet mine … and everything just goes wrong."

A warm feeling carried her through his next pause as she appreciated his reference to her boys as her family.

"When Mia showed up on my doorstep, soaked through with rain, pregnant, desperate… I was just so angry with Helen for abandoning her. And I believed, I let myself believe, that it was all some stupid, drunken mistake. My daughter isn't stupid," he looked straight ahead and found Sandra's eyes softly meeting his. "She isn't stupid. Yet I let myself believe it, because I was just so happy to have her back."

In her peripheral sight, Sandra was aware that the door to Mia and Bella's room was open, though she kept an even gaze with Rob.

"And for a moment, a horrible moment today I thought that my beautiful granddaughter, the baby I hold and love everyday, who giggles at the sound of my voice… to think that she could be in my life because of something so horrible… but then it was worse," his voice lowered. "How could anyone…? She was fifteen!"

Sandra took a breath as he faltered. "She was so young," she said steadily. "She still is. But she loved Bella's father. And she lost him. She's been through so many nightmares. But I know how proud you are of her and Bella, and you should be."

"How could I have been so selfish?" his eyes narrowed as he interrupted what she might have been about to say next. He stood up suddenly from the table and slammed his palms on the solid surface, hoping that the tactile stability of the object would help to prevent the tears that so desperately wanted to fall from his eyes. "Why didn't I ask her about what had happened? Why she'd left school? All those little details, those little questions… Why didn't I ask? Everything she went through, and I didn't even know! What kind of father does that make me? Why didn't I ask?"

"Because it wasn't what I needed," Mia said quietly, stepping into the living room behind them. "Dad, I didn't need you to ask questions. I didn't need to be interrogated. I just needed you to be there, and you were. You were there when I needed somewhere to stay; someone to stay with. You were there when Bella was born and you've been there every day since. You never asked what you didn't need to ask. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I didn't know how to. I'd dealt with what happened, in so much that raking it up again wouldn't have been good for either of us."

Rob swallowed as he walked toward his daughter. There was so much he needed to say to her, but he didn't have the first clue about what those things might be.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She smiled. "I'm not," she replied.

"I love you," he blinked.

"I love you too," she fell into her father's embrace. It was a hug that held all the emotion of their doorstep reunion all those months ago. It was a hug that meant that everything was ok.

Later, as the three of them sat on the sofa watching the late night film, Rob in the centre with an arm around each of his 'girls' as they sat curled comfortably on either side of him, a wry laugh broke from his lips.

"Mmm?" Mia mumbled, stirring slightly from a half-beginning doze.

"What is it?" Sandra asked, glancing up at him.

"Just," he grinned at the simplicity of the source of his amusement. "After everything that's happened, I keep coming back to one thought."

"What's that?" Mia stretched sleepily.

"Yesterday," he kissed her temple. "I was fishing."


	19. Anthony Kaye

_Hiya, it's official, work interferes with writing. Massive thanks to everyone for reading and to Sarah and Eden for their lovely reviews which always make me smile! And, here is the next chapter! Enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Anthony Kaye**

"What is up with you, are you going through The Change?" Gerry asked as Sandra rejoined them in the office.

"What?" she asked, eyeing the wrappings from their Monday morning bacon sandwiches lying on the table with suspicion. The Met canteen's bread was off. Or something was.

"All this moodiness and going to the bathroom, is it too hot in here for you?" Gerry ineffectually explained.

"What?" she repeated. Luckily for him, she hadn't actually caught what he was asking. "Moodiness?"

"Ignore him," Brian said sympathetically. It hadn't gone unnoticed to the quiet observer that Sandra had clearly been feeling unwell variously throughout the last few weeks, or that she was particularly distracted that morning. "He's just sore because Gerry Junior's team lost at the weekend."

"Am not," Gerry grumbled. "It was a bloody shambles, the ref wasn't even watching the game."

"He was in the middle of it," Steve grinned as he moved the remains of breakfast to the bin, much to the delight of Sandra's wounded senses.

"Brian, can I have a word in my office?" she decided to ignore Gerry and whatever it was that was causing him to gripe.

"Aye," the retired detective raised his eyebrows at his colleagues who shrugged in response as he followed their boss to the back of their lair.

"Close the door," she swallowed as she turned to face him. Throwing up hadn't dispelled the taste of slightly off bacon. Or whatever it had been. "Right, I wanted to talk to you about this before we take it on."

He frowned. "Take on what?"

She picked up the file from her desk and handed it to him. "Anthony Kaye."

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Anthony Kaye's death had haunted him for nearly twenty years. The young black man who'd died in custody; his custody. The case that had ended his career. They'd been looking for an excuse to get rid of him; he'd been set up. For so many years he'd known that he'd been set up. The lad had hanged himself and he'd been hung out to dry. Literally. He'd been an alcoholic and an obsessive. But that didn't mean he hadn't been set up. For years after he'd kept the cuttings from the papers; during the first year of UCOS he'd embarrassed himself by assaulting a Samaritans office to find the custody sergeant who'd been on duty that night. He'd felt the weight of the file in his hands once before; in the first weeks of UCOS; he hadn't opened it though and Sandra really didn't need to know about it.

"Gerry and me have been looking and we think there's grounds to re-open the case," she began carefully.

"And Strickland has sanctioned this?" he looked up. However much sway she might have over her superior officer at home, he knew both of them well enough to know that it didn't translate into work. Well, no more than it ever had before. "Never."

"He agreed to let us look at the file," she said simply. "I haven't asked for it to be officially re-opened yet, but we can have that argument when we get to it."

"Why? I mean, well, why?" His own burning need, it wasn't curiosity, it had been necessity; to know the truth of what had happened that night had been so personal, so centric, so intrinsic to his survival that to involve anyone else in his lost cause had never been his intention. And it certainly wasn't _in the public interest_, as the politicians would say.

She shrugged. "Why do we re-examine any case? New evidence comes to light or someone who cares about the people involved in it makes enough of a fuss. Anthony Kaye's family were never given a proper answer to why their son died. And the officer who was dismissed from duty, whose life was turned on its head, was used as a scapegoat so that the Met didn't have to instigate a full investigation," she held up a hand and said quite seriously. "I'm not saying there was a conspiracy, or that they were out to get you. But whatever happened that night, it was never explained. There weren't the answers there should have been."

"Esther won't be happy," Brian tried to hand her back the file. If he was completely honest, he didn't know how he felt about it. A beam of hope had entered the now rarely trodden paths of his memory where his enforced retirement lay; yet it illuminated the warning signs and hazard tape that others had put there to try and stop him thinking about it. He took his glasses off and held them in his hand, unconsciously turning them from side to side, feeling the edges of the arms digging into his fingers.

"I've spoken to Esther," she told him. She'd spent a few hours with Brian's wife on Saturday while their partners had been fishing. The conversation had been both lengthy and emotional, though neither woman had allowed the full extent of their feelings to come to the surface. "She's ok for us to go ahead with this if it's what you want." She didn't add that she'd practically had to promise her soul to his wife that she wouldn't let Brian get hurt in the process.

"What will you say to Strickland?" he tightened his grip slightly so that his glasses were as still as his sight, fixed firmly on the woman in front of him.

"The family of the man who lost his job don't feel that a proper job was done at the time. They've spent a lot of time thinking about it and they believe that he was unfairly accused and dismissed."

"The man was an alcoholic. Drunk on duty. A liability," Brian recounted the highlights of his former boss' 'dear john' speech. Objectifying it didn't make it any less personal though. It never would.

"He was also good at his job," she reminded him sternly. "And a good man."

He smiled involuntarily at her qualification of his old self.

"It won't be easy," she smiled sadly at her friend. "But whichever case we start today…"

"Will be my last case," he finished kindly for her. He swallowed and put his glasses back on, pushing them up his nose with his thumb. "We'll do it properly, no secrets."

She nodded. It hadn't escaped her notice that he had made up whatever differences he had had with Steve in the last few days and it gladdened her to know that he was happy to be open with the current new boy.

"I want to do this for you Brian, properly," she felt a lump forming in her throat that had nothing to do with dodgy sandwiches. She was going to miss him.

"Ok," he straightened his stance. He was touched. Of all those who'd kept their faith in him over the years; given him a chance; and generally not exiled him from their lives, few were still around. There was Esther, of course, there was, had always been and would always be Esther. There had been Jack. There was Gerry still. And there was Sandra, she was his boss but she was also one of the truest friends he had ever had. This had the hallmarks of disaster written all over it; no other copper would touch it with a barge pole. They'd locked it away in a cabinet far from the light of the sun. Like they'd tried to lock him, out of work, out of his mind, out of the sun. But that was before UCOS. "Let's find some answers."

She smiled. "Go put it on the board then. Let's get to work."

She was about to follow him out when the desk on her phone rang, "I'll be out in a moment," she called. "DS Pullman, UCOS?"

"_DAC Strickland, office."_

Oh great, he was in a flirty mood.

"_How's it going?"_

Oh wait, it was work. "Just about to put it on the board."

"_And Brian?"_

"He's the one putting it up."

"_I'll be down in an hour."_

"I'll look forward to it."

"_I love you."_

"I love you too."

"Aw guv, I never knew you cared."

She looked up to see Gerry in her doorway as she put the phone down. She scowled. "What do you want Gerry?"

"Just wanted to check you're alright," he shuffled into her office and closed the door. "Look," he held up his hands. "I know we take the piss, but we do care about you. And well, these last few weeks, you've got to admit, you've been acting a bit, odd."

"Odd?" she queried.

"Yeah, look are you sure Brian's alright with this case? That Esther is?"

"No, don't change the subject, odd?"

He shuffled uncomfortably, checked behind him that the door was closed and took a step towards her. Suddenly she didn't want to know his opinion anymore. "I'm fine," she lied. "Look Gerry, can we just get on?"

He paused for a moment, considering his next move. She'd just castled and if he moved his piece, it was going to be taken by her queen in a short, sharp, battle-ending defence. He knew something was wrong. And he knew Sandra. In the old days, though they were only a few months ago, she'd have bottled it up (whatever it was) and if that didn't work she'd eventually come clean and tell them what it was that was bothering her. Perhaps he'd have more luck at the pub later. "Sure," he compromised. "As long as you know…"

"I know," she smiled. The lump was getting worse. She knew her boys cared about her. She cared about them, and she knew that they knew that too. That's why she didn't want Brian to leave; that's why she didn't want Gerry to worry about her; and that was why she couldn't say anything, yet.


	20. Detective Inspector Brian Lane

_Just a short one before I go to work, more later __ Enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Detective Inspector Brian Lane**

"1997. Anthony Kaye," Brian pointed to the picture of the young face that had haunted his life for sixteen years. "Brought in on charges of possession and intent to supply. He was a known associate of a prolific dealer at the time. Kaye was being groomed to take on the supply chain, so that the dealer who was being watched by both us and his competition could step out of the lime-light and focus on the shipping," he paused and looked around at his audience. "Anthony Kaye died in police custody that night. He was found by the arresting officer, face down in his own vomit. He'd been left alone for less than two minutes."

Gerry watched his mate carefully; he wasn't sure he would be able to remain as calm as Brian if he was introducing the case that had put the brakes on his career. He'd just got pissed off with the constant accusations of corruption and thrown in the towel; Brian had been the victim of a massive administrative and moral cock-up as far as he could make out. He didn't buy into the whole conspiracy that Brian had hinted at in the past, but something didn't smell right. Looking around at his other colleagues, he saw Steve listening intently with curiosity; Sandra was perched on the edge of Brian's desk, watching Brian as he was.

"Who was the arresting officer?" Steve asked.

"Detective Inspector Brian Lane," Brian replied simply. "Me."

"You?" Steve exclaimed. "And we're investigating this?"

"We're investigating a miscarriage of justice," Sandra explained calmly. "Brian was suspended, pending an investigation which never happened."

"Not properly," Gerry added.

"Wait, so you knew we were doing this too?" Steve asked, quite shocked. "Well…"

"I asked Gerry to look at the case file with me before we approached you guys with it," Sandra tried to explain patiently. "I didn't want us to re-open this without being sure that we had sufficient grounds to."

"That's fair," Steve acknowledged. Whatever else he was, he was fair. And whatever his personal feelings might be, Brian's came first. He knew that custody death cases were a nightmare, thankfully from an investigatory perspective not personal as Brian did. He also knew that this case had the potential of being Brian's last case. "So, this guy Kaye; suicide?"

"That was the official line," Gerry agreed. "But half the post-mortem report is blacked out."

"The custody sergeant on duty that night left the job two months after it happened," Sandra continued. "He claimed not to seen anyone come or go in the time frame that Brian left Kaye. And no-one saw Brian in the time that he was gone." She shot an apologetic glance to Brian, who simply pushed his glasses up his nose; he already knew this.

"So, sorry to ask, but where were you?" Steve asked.

"I went to the toilet," Brian said simply. "I left him alone in that cell for less than two minutes. It looked like an overdose, he could have taken it before we got to the house to arrest him. The reaction delayed, could have occurred at any point. It just had to happen when I was peeing."

He looked around at his colleagues, all of whom had deadly serious expressions plastered on their faces. He laughed humourlessly. "I…believed at the time, and some time after, that I'd been set up. That Anthony Kaye was murdered in that station and I was set up to take the rap. I was being treated for depression at the time and it was advised that I get a doctor's note in my defence. A note that basically said I was barking mad and unfit for duty. I was suspended, later dismissed. I never found out what happened that night. And I want to know. If it was suicide, if it was an overdose; I want to know why that young man died. It was my last case, it is my last case, this time I want to close it."

"What happened about the drugs case? This dealer and supplier stuff?" Steve asked.

"They caught the head of the chain, he admitted to grooming Kaye and was sent down," Gerry supplied. "That's solid, I looked into it."

"So that leaves the dodgy post-mortem as our first port of call?" Steve concluded. "Were any of the other officers on the original case brought under scrutiny?"

"No," Brian looked at the board where his own younger face leered down at him. "There were two detective constables and a detective sergeant working on the case and in the station that night, all of whom were seen in the canteen during the time I was in the cells with Kaye and during the time he died. The DCS overseeing the case was in a meeting with another DI."

"I want all their statements gone back over," Sandra said. "We need to talk to Anthony Kaye's family; find out if there are any other circumstances for which he'd want to take his own life," she looked sympathetically at Brian. "The officers in charge of the investigation too and Brian, we'll need to talk to you." Brian nodded. "I know it doesn't need to be said, but this has to be done properly. If we do find that anything suspect happened that night, I don't want to be caught out."

She looked to the door as it opened and Rob quietly entered.

"Good morning everyone," he said.

She could see in his eyes that he was not having a great day. The events of Sunday, although overtly dealt with, were still very much on his mind. She couldn't deny that they were still on hers too. As they discussed the case with him and he offered his own echoes of the need to do this properly and with sensitivity; she could tell his mind was on the verge of wandering back to the shadows of yesterday. Gerry offered him a coffee as the discussion wrapped up, he declined as he had to get back upstairs to a case that he was overseeing in another department.

"What's up with him? Have you had a row?" Gerry asked bluntly after he'd gone.

"No," she closed her eyes. "Why are you so interested in my personal life today?"

"Because you've never had one before," the levity in his tones didn't make her laugh. It also didn't rile her to the point of retaliating as it might have done. It just made her tired.

"Just drink your coffee," she told him. She took the mug he handed her and sat on the red sofa. She needed to keep it together. Her temper was frayed, her emotions were shot. If she was a psychologist, she'd say that it was a subconscious reaction to finally having someone in her life that would catch her when she fell. If she thought about it rationally, she might realise that there was some truth in that diagnosis. As it was, she just wanted to get on with the job. Dragging her eyes away from the corner of the board that she'd been staring at, she picked up the pile of statements that Brian had separated for each of them and started to read.


	21. Tuesday

_Sorry for delays! This part is in a kinda different style but I'm battling with an issue of time (I go away in 16 days and I want to have finished this before I go, eek!) and trying to give Brian some answers without bogging down into the case and mucking it up. But, enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Tuesday**

10am

"Mrs. Kaye? I'm Detective Superintendent Pullman, this is my colleague, Brian Lane. We're from the Unsolved Crime and Open Case Squad. We spoke on the phone…"

"Hi, Gerry Standing, Steve McAndrew, UCOS. You're the pathologist that worked on the Anthony Kaye case in '97?"

"Hello, yes this is Deputy Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland, I need to speak to you regarding the investigation into the death of Anthony Kaye in police custody in 1997."

Mrs. Kaye invited Sandra and Brian into her simply furnished terraced house.

The pathologist nodded and led Steve and Gerry to her office.

The voice on the end of the telephone line let out a low sigh that Robert's ears could just make out.

It had begun.

11am

"Hi, Gerry? Yeh, how did it go? Ok, great. How long will you be? We'll see you back at the office."

"Sorry about that, so you're definite about that? Those injuries definitely occurred before death?"

"Hi, Sandra? Yes, I've just got off the phone to them. Right. Where are you going now then? Ok, I've just got a couple of things to see to here, I'll come down in an hour."

Sandra hung up the phone and looked across to Brian in the passenger seat. "You ok?"

Gerry and Steve frowned over the pictures the pathologist had laid over her desk. "Look, there…"

Robert sighed and stood up, lifting his jacket from the back of his chair. She wasn't going to like this.

12 noon

"Coffee?" Brian asked as Steve and Gerry returned. Receiving two certain nods in his direction, he precisely lined up five mugs and proceeded to make the coffee.

"Cheese and onion. Chicken mayo. Ham salad. And two plain ham," Steve divided the sandwiches between the team. Handing Sandra the two plain sandwiches.

"Afternoon," Rob entered the office. "How is it going?"

Sandra went first, adding Mrs. Kaye's comments to the tapestry of the case where they had been missing before. The woman had been shocked, confused but co-operative and grateful. "She couldn't tell us much," she concluded. "But she seemed genuine. She wants to know what happened as much as we do. Apparently the family weren't told much at the time."

"Do you think they'll be any come-back, should we uncover the worst?" Rob asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Sandra replied honestly. "If it wasn't suicide; if it was racial; if it was personal… I think we need to find that out before I can answer that question."

"And if it wasn't suicide, wouldn't they deserve something?" Steve asked incredulously. "I mean, come on!"

"Fair comment," Rob sighed. "What did the pathologist have to say?"

"Kaye suffered several injuries prior to his death," Gerry began. "Cuts and bruises mainly, looks like he took a beating. But because of the amount of drugs that were in his system, it's difficult to say how long before death the injuries occurred. It's possible he caused them himself if he was fitting; or that he might have been in a fight before Brian arrested him. None of them serious enough to be part of the c, o, d. Puncture marks in his skin from injections same story. The toxicology suggested that the drugs in his system had been administered several hours before he was arrested. But also that there were no abnormal amounts, as you'd expect for a suicide attempt."

"What if an additional amount entered his system in the hours before he died? He could have injected through a puncture mark that was already there?" Rob thought aloud. "Could it have been just a tipping point too much at the wrong time?"

"It's possible," Gerry said. "The pathologist said she'd have another look over them and the report and get back to us."

"The parts blacked out on the copy of the pathology report on file all relate to the cuts and bruises," Steve added sceptically. "As if they didn't want any possible links to a scuffle in the cells."

"How did you get on?" Sandra asked. She watched as Brian turned his eyes down and his concentration diverted to unwrapping his sandwich. She couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on in his thoughts at the best of times; and this was definitely not the best of times.

"Complete denial of any wrong doings by any member of the investigating team," Rob reported neutrally. "All the evidence apparently pointed to an accident death caused by a delayed reaction to a drug overdose, from drugs taken some time prior to arrest. He refuted any suggestion that Brian had been set up or used as a scapegoat. The doctor's report and the testimonies of Brian's superior office at the time were considered sufficient evidence to recommend early retirement on health grounds. He was sympathetic to the situation, saying that there probably wouldn't have been anything Brian could have done had he been there when Kaye died, but that he might have been negligent in observing Kaye's behaviour."

"That he should have noticed that the kid was off his head, but didn't because … that's well considerate," Gerry fumed not quite under his breath. "Sorry, mate," he looked across to Brian.

"It's ok," Brian's eyes rested on each of them in turn. "He might have had a point."

"Let's wait to see if the pathologist turns anything up before we give up completely," Steve said supportively. Mindful that Brian's next sentence in all likelihood would be a suggestion that the case wasn't worth pursuing. "We still need to give the lad's mam some answers."

"Yeah, and the fact that they weren't told anything really at the time," Gerry looked to Sandra for confirmation. "That's still fishy, right?"

"1997? Young black drug addict dies in custody? How much would you have told the family?" Brian frowned at his friend. "How much would they have believed?"

Rob looked around the subdued team before addressing Brian directly. "No-one said this was going to be easy Brian. But Gerry and Steve are right, there are still questions that need answering," he waited for the older man to acknowledge his words before turning to Sandra. "Can I have a word in your office?"

"Sure," Sandra handed him one of the sandwiches she was still holding and picked up her coffee from the side.

"Yours is in the red mug," Brian said to the DAC. "Milk, no sugar."

"Thank you," Rob smiled, picking up the mug and following Sandra to her room at the back.

She nodded at the chair opposite her desk before setting her coffee down. It felt a tiny bit weird to be having lunch with her …boyfriend? in her office at work; but a kind of weird that made her feel happy too. She unwrapped her sandwich and picked which half to eat first.

"So, what did you want to say?" she asked before she took a bite.

"I'm going to need to bring someone else in," he sipped his coffee. "Not over your head or anything," he grinned as he detected a bristle of indignance. "Just another pair of eyes if you like for when you're interviewing Brian and the other officers that you need to talk to. Kind of like an insurance, if anything does get turned up, we don't want to be accused of 'keeping it in the family' so to speak."

"That's fair," she agreed. "Do you trust what you were told this morning?"

He shook his head.

1pm

"Hello, Mr. Nixon? I'm Detective Superintendent Pullman from the Unsolved Crime and Open… you've heard of us, good. We're re-investigating the case of Anthony Kaye, death in police custody, that's right. Would you be able to come into the station tomorrow to talk to us?"

"Hello is that Andy Meadows? Former DI in the drugs squad? Hi, it's Gerry Standing from UCOS. We're re-investigating …"

"Hello, this is Steve McAndrew, UCOS, I'd like to arrange to see one of your prisoners, yes Derek Bradley, arrested May 1998. This afternoon if possible?"

"Hi, Brian Lane, UCOS, I rang earlier regarding the contact details for …"

3pm

"Right, we're off to see this former drugs baron, see what he has to say about grooming Kaye to take over the chain," Steve poked his head through the door. "See you in the morning then?"

Sandra nodded. "See you tomorrow."

5:33 pm

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"


	22. Carrie Grant

**Carrie Grant**

"Morning guv," Gerry walked into the office with his usual greeting. "Alright Brian?"

"Morning Gerry," Sandra replied.

"Alright," Brian glanced up. "Kettle's just boiling."

"That'd be my cue," Steve grinned as he followed Gerry's path to the kitchen corner. "One fresh bottle of milk and a packet of jammy biscuits as requested by the boss in the last staff meeting."

"You keeping minutes now?" Gerry rolled his eyes. "I told you, never trust a Scot!"

Sandra sighed and shook her head. "Morning Steve."

"Good morning Sandra, how are you today?" Steve winked as he turned his back to Gerry.

"Fine, thanks," she grinned. "And thank you for remembering the biscuits."

"Not at all," he parried. "Brian? How you doing?"

Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm fine thank you. Good morning."

"'ere do you know who we saw down the pub last night?" Gerry asked as he handed out the coffee. "Dougie Taylor. Said he'd heard we'd been interviewing and wanted to know why we never called 'im!"

Brian let out a guffaw of laughter. "Him? Sorry."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Steve asked taking his usual seat.

"What's right with him these days," Gerry mulled. "Nah, he's alright Dougie. He used to be pretty decent, but last time we saw him … he'd lost it."

"Said he'd gotten old," Brian recalled.

"No such thing," Steve exclaimed, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Old… pah! So when's the newbie starting, anyway?"

"Monday," Sandra said. "We'll have this case cleared up by the end of the week and then we can start something fresh. Meanwhile Brian is going to make a start on the yearly audit and then show you the systems for it."

"Why not me?" Gerry asked put out.

"Because Gerry, the mere word spreadsheet sends you into a state of fever," Brian dead-panned.

Steve and Sandra laughed. "Plus," Steve added. "You know your way around this maze of a city; send me out with the fresh blood and you'll only have to come out yourself and find us!"

"On the subject of fresh blood," Sandra began tentatively. "Strickland's sending us someone today to sit in with the interviews. Just as an insurance against any bias that could be levelled at us afterwards."

As she spoke the doors to the office opened once more and Rob entered followed by a woman whom none of them knew. Gerry mentally bit his tongue, while Steve politely stood up and Brian took his glasses off. Sandra held the sigh in her head, _great, a woman._

"Good morning everyone," Rob said cheerfully looking around and received a chorus of reply. "This is Detective Inspector Carrie Grant, she'll be joining you for a day or two while you re-interview former officers. I take it Sandra has explained?" The boys nodded. "Excellent. Let me just introduce you, this is Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman," the two women nodded to each other. "Gerry Standing, Brian Lane and Steve McAndrew."

"Carrie Grant?" Gerry inquired. "As in…?"

"My parents liked old movies," the woman spoke with a soft Yorkshire accent. "So they thought it was very funny when I married a Grant."

"Oh," Gerry replied. He was mindful of Sandra's eye on him, and was almost sure she could hear the younger man in him mentally adding the word 'married' next to her name in his mind. "Well, it's lovely to meet you."

"And you," she responded smiling. Gerry Standing. Her mother had warned her about him. Rightly so, she thought to herself, if she was a hell of a lot less married and he was a hell of a lot younger.

He was ninety per cent sure that she was sharing the same joke as Sandra, as he glanced across to his governor to see her own subtle smile in his direction.

"Grant? Your husband wouldn't be DCI David Grant, Armed Robbery?" Brian asked.

"That's right, do you know him?" she met his eye with her own open hazel ones. If she was at all nervous at meeting the legends that were UCOS, she hoped she wasn't showing it. Memory Lane was an almost mythical name to her generation; those that had been more than mere uniformed constables in the nineties.

"1992, he was one of the uniform officers that called us out to a scene. First night on the job, came across a murdered prostitute, blood everywhere. Poor lad looked quite green. I suppose he's seen a few worst since then," Brian smiled kindly at the woman. She looked petrified.

"Nice to meet you, Carrie," Steve stepped forward and offered his hand. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Thank you, erm, milk one sugar, thanks," she shook Steve's hand. He was the one that had replaced Jack Halford. Not intentionally, though she suspected that Robert Strickland had been plotting something when he'd invited him down. The petrol station hold-up had been her case.

"Right, well I've got to get back upstairs, I'll leave you to it," Rob grinned and left the room. He was ninety-nine point five percent certain that he'd made the right choice. Carrie was a good cop; straight, discreet and discerning. And she had Sandra's approval. He'd seen that in the incontrollable grin behind Sandra's eyes as Carrie had engaged with each of the boys.

He was shagging Sandra Pullman. She was sure of it. But that wasn't the only reason he was smiling. Carrie carefully observed the older woman in the microseconds of silence that she had to do so; she was as much a miracle as the men she worked with. It was like being in _Madame Tussauds_, except that the waxworks were real people and that she was among them. No, the DAC was smiling because he knew that Sandra Pullman had done exactly what she, Carrie, had done. Taken the measure of the other woman and decided that they could work together. He was smiling, because he'd got it right. He knew it. And he knew he could demand getting-it-right privileges after hours. So the smile had a lot to do with the fact he was shagging her. But it wasn't the only reason.

"Right," Sandra addressed her now very occupied domain. "Gerry, Steve, what did you get from the prison yesterday?"


	23. Raking Up The Past

**Raking Up The Past**

From 10am the UCOS team had divided into two parties and two interview rooms. The trampling of old coppers boots echoed up and down the stairs and through the corridors. Coppers boots that had become Italian leather shoes; suede trainers and hush puppies. Brian watched from his vantage point in the main office. He wasn't allowed to sit in or even observe the interviews. Their insurance officer had been quite definite, if apologetic, about that. So he contented himself with re-reading the case files and running a few background searches on their temporary recruit, and the newbie whose name Gerry had eventually relented and given him.

Gerry stood up and stretched, blowing out his cheeks. Apparently the new bird didn't believe in cigarette breaks. He looked at his watch, "Bleedin' 'eck!"

"What is it?" Carrie looked up as she collected the tape from the machine.

"Three and a half hours we've been in 'ere!" Gerry cringed. It had been a cringe-worthy three and a half hours too. If there was one part of the job that wound him up, always had and always would, it was dealing with thick coppers. For three and a half hours of his life, he'd been banging his head against a brick wall. He'd probably have made more headway if that had actually been what he was doing. Instead, he and Carrie had been questioning a load of people who knew nothing. Anthony Kaye had died in police custody; they hadn't seen anything; it had been an overdose, hadn't it? Yes, they'd known that Brian got the boot for it. No, they didn't know anything further on it.

Carrie sighed as she stood up, picking up the few items they had had about the room. "No wonder I'm dying for a smoke," she grimaced. "Sorry, not very professional, I know…"

"Hey, no problem," Gerry said, his day suddenly brightened as he looked at the young brunette in a new light. "Right then, check in with the guv'ner, then outside?"

"Right behind you, if not in front," she winked, leaving the room ahead of him.

He shook his head, she could definitely play with the big boys. They met Steve and Sandra in the corridor. Sandra looked green. Steve looked bored and worried.

"What's up?" Gerry asked quickly as Sandra walked past him to the toilet. "Guv? Sandra?"

Steve laid a quick hand on his friend's arm and shook his head ever so slightly. "How have you got on?" he asked as a distraction.

"Crap," Gerry fumed. "Nothing."

"Right, well we might have done slightly better," Steve said, his eyes flicking down the corridor as he spoke. "You been for a smoke yet?"

Gerry shook his head.

"We were just on our way, you joining?" Carrie asked easily.

"No, I don't, but I'll come for the air. Fill you in," Steve said.

"I'll just get my bag," Carrie slipped past to the side door into the main office. She'd detected pretty quickly that the two men needed to have a short exchange without her presence before the unofficial debriefing that they would have outside. She hadn't spent much time with the team as a whole, but she had seen enough to know that they cared about each other. It was very different to the teams she normally worked in. There would be friends; maybe even lovers; there was team ethos; but never had she seen a family. If a slightly unconventional one, that was what UCOS was. Nodding to Brian who looked exceptionally bored at his desk, she indicated her cigarette packet. "We'll be back in five," she said, to which he nodded in reply.

Sandra leant on the basin in the ladies toilet and looked at herself in the mirror. Too many times she had been in this position in the last few weeks. She re-entered the main offices, nodded to Brian who was clearly itching for company having been left on his own for the three and a half hours that they had been stuck in interviews. Perhaps she ought to have left the radio on, she mused as she indicated she'd be in her office for a few minutes. Flicking the pages in her diary until she found the number she was looking for, she went to lift the desk phone as it began to rang. Sighing, she lifted the receiver; "Pullman, UCOS?"

"_Hiya, love, you ok?"_

"Alright thanks, we think we've got something. Are you coming down this afternoon?"

Having assented that he was, she replaced and relifted the receiver, dialling the number she had been wanting to before he rang. Well, not wanted to perhaps but needed to. She watched through the window in her office door as the others returned to the office and went about making coffee. One of them would run up to the canteen, get some sandwiches. They'd make small talk to avoid letting on what her and Steve had come across that morning. Then they'd interview Brian. Then they could tell him. Tell him that he wasn't so crazy as he'd been led to believe. She recalled the exchange she'd shared with Jack ten years ago: _No, it's not possible, I know what happened to him. No, no you don't, trust me;_ and offered thanks that she had trusted her old mentor.

It was weird now. Officially weird. Brian sat on the wrong side of the desk facing Sandra who he'd known for years and Carrie whom he'd only met that morning. He was worried about Sandra, there was something she wasn't telling them. He knew Gerry had tried to ask her only to have his questioning defected. She would tell them, when she was ready; or when she got tired of them asking. He knew that Rob Strickland was standing behind the glass. It amused the romantic in him that whenever the DAC walked into the office these days, Sandra's eyes softened. He knew that Esther was in the other room with Gerry and Steve. She was the best thing in his life. She hadn't been exactly ecstatic about their re-opening this case; even less so about having to talk to his friends and colleagues about how it had affected him; but had agreed for reasons that if he couldn't quite understand he was grateful for. If it hadn't been weird so far, it was officially odd now.

Sandra gave him an apologetic look and switched on the tape machine, recording her and Carrie's presence. What he'd learnt about their insurance officer through his computer searches that morning had been supplemented by conversation at lunch. She was thirty-five. Her and David, her husband, had been married for twelve years. They had two sons, aged nine and six. She was originally from Ripon in Yorkshire but had moved to London for university. She'd studied psychology. She'd got a first. She had brown hair, brown eyes, was slim and good looking (if Gerry's reaction that morning was anything to go by). And she was about to ask him to rake up the past as if thirteen years ago was yesterday.

"Mr. Lane," Carrie took the lead as she and Sandra had discussed briefly after lunch. "Brian, could you take us through the day in question, from the arrest of Anthony Kaye up to his death in police custody."

The day in question. The day in question was the day that had ended his career in CID; in the force. The day in question was the day when a young man had died on his watch. It was the day that had pushed him over the edge just far enough that it had taken a cocktail of drugs and the love of his wife several years to pull him back.

"It was a Thursday… " he began.


	24. Actually Thursday

**Actually Thursday**

"Urgh, what day is it?" Sandra dragged her tired and drained self to the breakfast table. She pulled a vain smile at Mia and Rob who were frowning in concern. This loosened her facial muscles enough to present a silly face to Bella who laughed and clapped in response.

"Thursday," Rob subtly gave a side-ways wink to Mia while Sandra was still absorbed in the spoon that Bella was pointing at her.

"Chemistry, Maths, English," Mia listed raising her eyebrow at her dad but obliging to his distraction technique. Something was definitely up. She knew that Sandra was working on a tough case; 'Brian's case' as it had been referred to. They didn't talk about work at home, but she'd heard them last night while she'd been finishing off a piece of coursework. They'd been discussing in quiet voices something that had come up while Sandra had been interviewing her colleague. Actually, she was sure that Sandra had been crying.

"Did you get that essay done alright?" Sandra asked kindly. As hard as her team were working at the moment, she was sure it was nowhere near equal to re-sitting GCSEs with a baby to care for. However simple family life ever sounded; it never was. She had seen it with her own family, if she thought about it. Her mum had been left as a single parent to a teenager when her dad had died. Sandra knew she hadn't given her mum an easy ride; but everything she'd done paled into insignificance compared to the secret her mum had had to keep from her. They'd been to see Grace last night. She'd been delighted with the biscuits. The chocolate shop in Hertfordshire and the whole weekend seemed so long in the past now. Everyday seemed longer, even though they'd been leaving work just after five most days. It was partially through design, they could only do so much in a day; and partly because the emotions that each of them (well, maybe not Steve so much) were holding down were just exhausting. She'd cried last night. Curling into Rob on the sofa after they'd said goodnight to Mia and Bella; she'd just cried. It had started as a pretend pout, because he wouldn't tell her why they'd had to go and see her mother on a Wednesday; or why Mia and Bella had been sent down to the car while she was in the toilet. Why on earth would he willingly leave himself in her mother's company alone? Apparently Bella had been fussing and he hadn't realised his error until it had happened. The simple (and highly plausible) explanation had only been offered however once the pretend pout had dissolved into real tears. She put it down to tiredness. She was hopeful they could close this case today, write the reports up tomorrow and have a relaxing weekend.

"Yes thanks," Mia replied. "Actually, Dad, do you mind if I just print it off before we go? It's first period and I can't be bothered with the library first thing."

"That's fine," Rob nodded. "I'll get Bella ready for you. Do you want any breakfast making?"

Sandra shook her head at the question directed to her, she pulled her mug towards her. She smiled. Her mug. It was Rob's favourite story about how she'd moved in and requisitioned his favourite mug for her own. She'd never had a mug before. Brian had his at work, but her, Gerry and Steve just took their caffeine fix in whatever it was proffered. As it would be in a little over an hours time. Bella would be at the childminders. Mia would be at college. Rob would be in his office. She would be contemplating going into an interview room where the outcome would either save or destroy her friend.

"'ere you are guv," Gerry put the mug in front of her on the table.

She was sitting at the round table opposite the red chairs. She couldn't see the board from there. She had her back to the door. She looked up at Gerry as he sipped from his own drink. The strain was showing. He hadn't made a wise-cracking remark all morning. She crossed herself, the morning had only just started. The point was, that he hadn't come in like his usual whirlwind self. Even Steve's bouncy-ball personality seemed deflated somewhat as he sat frowning over the top of his mug. She watched Brian as he sat serenely at his desk, pushing his glasses up his nose as he read the morning news online. It wasn't going to be a normal day.

"Good morning," came the pleasant enough if not overly familiar tones of DI Carrie Grant as she entered the offices. "Sorry I'm late, had to drop the boys off at my mum's."

Sandra glanced at their temporary intruder as she crossed the room to the table where Sandra was sat and put her handbag on the chair.

"Traffic's a nightmare this morning, isn't it?" the younger woman continued sociably.

"Traffic's always a nightmare in London," Steve observed. He enjoyed living in London to a point, however he often wondered to himself if he enjoyed moaning about it more.

Gerry laughed. He loved London. And he knew that secretly, Steve loved it a little bit too. What the hell had brought Brian down here, he realised that he still had no idea. There were a lot of things he didn't know about his mate. He'd realised that yesterday, listening to Esther talk quietly and frankly about Brian's darkest times. If today didn't go right; if they didn't find the answers they were expecting; or if they played the slightest card wrong, there was a chance that he'd go straight back there and that she'd have to go through it all again. Today couldn't go wrong.

Rob sat in his office chair just staring at the clock. It was ten o'clock. In half an hour he would be going down to the UCOS offices. The man they were interviewing was a former governor of his. He'd been the DCS who'd been with another DI when Anthony Kaye died. It might have been coincidence that Kaye's boss had been a thorn in his side for years. It might all be one big mix-up that the other DI hadn't even been in the station that night. It might even be coincidence that the CIB department already had their suspicions about the man. Maybe. The sooner he could get this case out of UCOS, the better. He'd been apprehensive about letting them take it on anyway; and rightly so if Sandra's tears last night were anything to go by; but he was also well aware that when it came to cracking a tough nut, you needed to do a decent job. You needed to do it properly. She was going to go mad when she found out.

"What time is he coming in?" Brian asked.

Sandra looked across. Neither she nor Brian had moved far in the past twenty minutes. None of them had spoken much in the past twenty minutes. Carrie had been the most active, looking through case notes and scribbling on a piece of paper. Gerry and Steve had played a game of darts.

"Eleven," Sandra said flatly. She bit her lip. "It'll be fine."

"'Course it will," Gerry said wiping the score board clean as Steve walked away smiling. "Since when did we become bloody bloodhounds for corrupt DACs? Remember Felsham?"

"Yes, Gerry, I do, thank you," Sandra grimaced. It was the second time in a week that that man's name had entered her mind. A case that had threatened to close her unit forever. At least this time, there would be no gap in the cloth that could be torn. Sadly, she remembered, the close-knit team that she'd had when they'd brought down John Felsham had already started to be unpicked by the stitches of age and fate.

"Good morning everyone," Rob joined them. "Is everything ready?"

Ten minutes later the phone rang in Sandra's office. Gerry and Rob left the office to escort the DAC who had motive, means and no alibi down to the interview room. Brian and Steve took up their posts in the observation room. Sandra and Carrie greeted the officer who'd been responsible for Brian's dismissal in the corridor and led him into the interview room. Gerry and Rob joined the others in the observation room. Sandra introduced the situation to the tape machine; the fifth observer. Then, as they had discussed, she took the lead.


	25. CIB

**CIB**

Tensions were tight, lips were sealed and emotions were exquisitely painful. The interview had lasted for an hour and a half. Rob shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his back stiffened from standing for so long. Steve was itching to punch the man in the interview room. Brian rubbed his temple as his head physically ached from assimilating and accommodating what he'd been hearing. Gerry wanted to take the bastard by the collar, push him against a wall and ask him if he had any idea what he'd done or whether he was just saying the words.

Sandra and Carrie had sat patiently through a pretty little speech about drug dealing in the nineties; an opinionated tirade about alcoholic officers; and a damning insight into prehistoric views on mental illness. Then they'd gone in for the kill, very softly and very slowly. Letting out the knowledge that they knew he didn't know they knew until the man had enough rope to hang himself on tape without even noticing until it was too late.

Pride filled the observation room as the four men watched and listened to the two women work. Each prowling subtly around their prey, weaving the net that would catch him. Tempers completely in check in the serene atmosphere in the interview room, the only interruption of personal views had been from the man they were interviewing. All of his political calm had been exhausted and the power of his discriminate opinions had been exposed by the two tigresses deftly manipulating their victim with silk-gloves.

Placing one question neutrally into the conversation, Carrie mentally stepped back and gave Sandra the all-clear to take the bastard down. They had him precisely where they wanted him. He didn't know that they had all the cards. The pathologist, the DI, the honesty of humanity was going to be his downfall. It restored a little faith in human nature at least.

Sandra readied herself for the pounce as he unconsciously tied himself in the fishing line that Carrie had laid in front of him. She was going to have this sorry excuse for a copper. He'd deliberately set Brian up to fail; he'd made sure that Brian was left alone with Kaye. Then he'd waited. He'd set the trap and he'd waited for his moment. Now it was her turn, she felt every syllable the bastard spilled, picked her entry point and struck.

The blaze roared. Confessions of machination fled the man's lips unbidden as he tripped and fell over the stumbling stone aptly placed by his able adversaries. The Who: Anthony Kaye. The Why: he was the pawn of a dangerous player. The Who: Brian Lane. The Why: he wasn't going to be missed.

"…he was an alcoholic for Christ's sake! You've seen the quack's note! He was about ready to be sectioned anyway! I'm surprised he wasn't, from what I've heard about afterwards! You don't understand…"

"No," Sandra interrupted him before he could say anything else that would incite her to leap across the table and take him out. "I don't understand how you could destroy a man's career without a second thought or how you could take a young man's life because you wanted leverage over a drug dealer. I don't understand why you couldn't find another way. I fail to comprehend how you could think that was the right way to do the job."

He squirmed, reared, fumed, struggled and sagged. They had him and he knew it. He raised his eyes and shot a poisonous glare at Sandra Pullman as she looked him square in the eye and arrested him for the murder of Anthony Kaye in police custody. Two uniformed officers entered the room and stood behind him. This was the end of the line. Anthony Kaye had been murdered. Not by Brian. He'd been set up. They'd been ready to finish him. The Met had shielded the man responsible. For thirteen years Brian had been waiting for this result. To see who was mad and who wasn't. In order to expose one criminal, the man now under caution had murdered another. It wasn't the way it worked. As DI Carrie Grant arrested the man who Brian had trusted and never suspected on charges of corruption and he was led away, the breath that he'd been holding for thirteen years was released.

"She's CIB," Sandra fumed. "You brought in a CIB officer with a case file against the same man we were chasing. Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

Rob stood opposite her in her office, the blinds were open, the door was ajar. He faced down the full fury of the woman in front of him as she stood angrily rightfully accusing him of keeping her in the dark. She was livid.

"Would it have done any good?" he asked trying to keep his own temper in check. "You were always going to need an independent officer to come in on this case. You know that. And yes, as soon as I realised where the snake in this case lay I made the connection with the files DI Grant had brought to my attention."

"You used us," she raged. "You made us the go-betweens, the catalysts for catching out a man you were already after! And you couldn't even be honest about it!"

"You had enough to worry about!" he heatedly replied. "What good would it have done for your focus to be blurred by anything else the bastard had done? No-one ever said that this case was going to be an easy ride! Would you have preferred to find out that Brian really had been at fault? That it really hadn't been a set up?"

"Of course not," she gritted her teeth. She thought about Brian, he'd looked exhausted when they'd emerged finally from the interview and observation rooms. She'd sent the boys down the pub. There was no chance of them doing any work that afternoon. The last few days had taken enough out of them. Even thinking about imagining a different outcome was impossible yet.

"For you to achieve a true result on this case, you had to concentrate on what you were dealing with! Not be distracted by the thought that there might have been something more to it," he tried to level his tone with little avail. "I didn't tell you, because I was trying to protect you, all of you. It wouldn't have helped Brian to give him false hope knowing that that hopeless excuse for a police officer was suspected of being bent! I couldn't risk that. DI Grant was the right person to bring in. You know that, and I know you do. And I'm not going to apologise! I am your commanding officer Sandra. And I'm sorry if I can't always be completely honest with you, but that's just the way it has to be sometimes!"

The silence that fell following his outraged speech was as thick as treacle. She watched his chest rise and fall as he calmed, waiting for her reply. She knew he was right, really. She'd just been pissed off.

"I thought you weren't going to apologise," she said tight-lipped, as she prepared to admit defeat.

"Sandra…" he growled, readying himself for another round.

"I've missed this," she said quietly shrugging one shoulder and glancing away for a moment. The thought had caught her unawares but her subconscious quickly recognised its intentions and meanings and decided to run with it anywhere. It was easier than starting another argument at any rate.

He narrowed his eyes, temporarily thrown off-guard. "What do you mean?"

"This," she smiled. "Do you realise that we haven't had a massive row for like two months now? I've missed it."

Laughing, he stepped toward her and lifted a hand, stroking her cheek gently. "We have been rather tamed recently," he agreed.

"Can't imagine why," she flirted, running her hand over his shoulder and playing with the hairs at the base of his neck.

Smiling he lowered his lips to hers. Relaxing against each other, it took the chirruping of her desk phone to remind them where they were. Breaking apart reluctantly she lifted the receiver; "Pullman, UCOS?"

"_Put him down, you're wine's getting warm,"_ Gerry's teasing tones came down the line. _"I assume that's who you're with anyway, but you can celebrate with him later. Meanwhile…"_

She looked down at where Rob's finger was firmly pushed against the little button that cut off the call. She followed his eyes as they flicked toward the now closed door and lowered blinds. Feeling like a teenager, she replaced the receiver and moved the things from the centre of her desk to the edges. Her wine could get warm; later couldn't wait.


	26. Preparation is the best defence

**Preparation is the best defence**

"Gerry," Sandra looked around the office. The white board was clear; the ghosts from Brian's past being carefully re-filed by the man himself while Steve cleaned the board with a cloth. The tidy table was tidy apart from the three box files they had deliberately put there in readiness for the afternoon. They'd been hard at it since half past eight. Sandra had personally been in the office since eight, writing up and finalising their report for the CPS. The plan was to have a relatively easy day and to prepare the office for their new recruit's arrival on Monday. And there was something that was bugging her. She took a breath as she addressed the soon-to-be only remaining member of the original UCOS team; the man who Don Bevan had objected to her hiring five minutes after telling her she could chose whoever she liked. "Will you take Jack's desk?"

She hadn't meant to use the words 'Jack's desk' in her question. Damn it, she'd meant to say 'the desk by my office' instead. "It's just…" what? That she didn't want the new person to have Jack's desk? Pretty much.

"It's fine," Gerry said, understanding completely what she'd said, what she'd meant to say and why she couldn't explain herself.

"So, who gets my desk?" Brian asked suddenly. It hadn't crossed his mind, which he considered odd as most things did, that someone else would be sitting at his desk when he left next Friday. The 'newbie' (for they had all to Sandra's dismay coined Steve's turn of phrase) would logically take his desk as well as his place; yet then there would still be the empty desk: Jack's desk. He turned over Sandra's sudden decision in his mind as he asked his own question and found her request to Gerry quite sensible.

She hadn't thought that far ahead, she realised as she looked at Brian. "Well… I thought, I guess I thought that if Gerry takes the desk by my office, because he'll have been here longest. The newbie," damn it, she hated that word since Steve had said it and now she was using it too! "Can take Gerry's desk. And if Steve needs to use a computer, the one on your desk is closest to him."

"Can't fault the lady's logic there," Steve stepped back and admired the once again gleaming white board. "Eh Brian, don't forget to take those magazines out the bottom drawer will you? I don't wanna get a scare when I'm looking for a spare paperclip!"

"Paperclips are in the top left," Brian replied dryly. "Oh, by the way, Esther said to invite you all over for dinner tonight. She's doing chicken apparently."

"Smashing," Gerry replied. "I'll be there."

"Sorry pal, Charlie's coming down for the weekend," Steve took the file Brian had finished with and crossed the room to place it on the table.

"So? Bring her. She said Strickland's invited too," he added to Sandra who suddenly became very interested in some imaginary mark on Jack's former desk much to his amusement. He shrugged as Steve queried him in a look. "Esther likes to entertain," he explained. "Plus she wants to thank you all for putting up with me for so long."

"The more the merrier?" Gerry grinned as he distracted Sandra's attention to non-existent furniture blemishes by depositing a pile of whatever had been on his old desk onto his new desk.

"That's a happy thought to come into," said an unfamiliar voice as it entered through the main office doors and stood drawing attention to itself and its owner as the clock showed five to nine.

Four pairs of eyes were drawn to their intruder. Four brains devoured immediate sensory information and formulated first impressions. Four heads mentally checked their calendars. It was definitely Friday. The newbie had arrived. Early.

"Sorry," the newbie sounded sincere even though they were all sure that this wasn't an accidental encounter. "I know I don't start until Monday, but I thought I'd pop in and try to get settled a bit before the whole deep end routine."

Sandra blinked. The newbie had balls. Contradicting, self-assured, cock-sure with an annoying turn of phrase balls. Damn it.

Gerry groaned inwardly. The newbie was a moron. Damn it.

Brian and Steve looked at each other. Brian shrugged. Steve glanced at the kettle. Brian raised his eyebrows and grinned. Steve questioned silently, Brian answered.

"How do?" Brian said gruffly. "Brian Lane, kettle's over there."

Gerry let out an almighty choke of laughter. Sandra slapped his arm. He stopped abruptly and faced her. She giggled at the taken aback look on his face.

"Sugar's in the tin marked 'Gerry and Steve'," Steve calmly informed the newcomer who hadn't moved. "You'd best add your name if you take it too. I'm Steve by the way. That's Gerry over there."

Brian was now struggling to hold his chuckle even with the effort of acting normally and sitting at his desk. The newbie looked like a deer in headlights.

"Hi," was all Gerry could manage as he ducked out of catching anyone else's eye by arranging his clutter into it's new homes.

"Yes," the newbie responded slowly in a London drawl. "We've already met. You were at the interview. It's nice to see you again. DS Pullman, ma'am."

"Hello again, Nick," Sandra pulled herself together with a magnificent effort and crossed the room with her hand outstretched. "You'll have to excuse the rest of the team, we've just got back from our morning exercise class. It makes the day begin so much more efficiently when all the endorphins are kicking about and everything's just more relaxed, don't you find?"

Brian snorted. Steve had his hands over his face trying desperately to contain his laughter while Gerry had given into the titters and was practically hugging the back of his chair to keep upright.

"Also," she lowered her voice and leaned towards him as if about to let him into the biggest secret of all. "We weren't expecting to see you until Monday."

"No…" Nick replied slowly. He looked at the three men inexpertly hiding their very real need to explode with mirth and wondered if he'd been right when he'd said that retirement sent you crazy and why would he want to work with a team of retired detectives who would most likely be crazy? His partner had replied simply that he must be crazy.

"Ah, good morning Nick," Rob Strickland entered the office and took in at a glance the sight of the UCOS team trying to disguise the stitches they were about to bend over in. "I thought you weren't joining us 'til Monday?"


	27. Do You Promise To Care For Her?

_Ok, so, two massive distractions later… I think I've stretched one premise of this story out quite long enough._

_Jessie xx_

**Do you promise to care for her?**

It was what UCOS had needed. Four days without laughter was practically unheard of; in fact Sandra could only remember one other time when it had happened – after Hanson had got off. But once they had finished laughing and assured their newest member that the only morning exercise that he might encounter would be a rigorous round of rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to make the coffee; the atmosphere was easier than it had been. Sandra set Nick the task of choosing their next case out of the three they had left on the table. She'd insisted that for their very cruel jokes, Brian and Steve would be responsible for making the coffee and running to the canteen for bacon butties. Rob had been sent away, still slightly confused by the hilarity that the new man had caused, with the Kaye files in his custody; and Gerry happily spent the morning moving desk. By lunchtime they had a new case; Gerry had a new desk; and despite Steve's protestations at poor navigation, he and Nick had gone out to meet with the author of a several strongly worded letters that had been attacking the UCOS in-tray recently.

"Right," Sandra exited her now tidy office with her bag and coat in hand. Gerry and Brian looked up from their respective workstations. She smiled. Somehow it felt better to have the empty desk filled again. It felt right. They hadn't replaced Jack, they never would. But it felt like they had somehow come to terms with his absence. He'd been gone from the office six months. Gone forever for two. She brushed off the melancholy memories of the day the news of his death had hit her and answered their questioning looks. "I've got to pop out for a bit – "

"Where to?" Brian asked instantly.

She frowned slightly. "I've got an appointment," she said vaguely. Though the message not to be nosy was very clear. "I'll be back in an hour or so. You two can manage without me for that long? Right?"

"Yes," Gerry replied indignantly.

"Good," she grinned. "I'll see you later."

The two old friends looked at each other as she left. "What was that about?" Gerry asked.

Brian shrugged. "She's got an appointment," he summarised.

"Yeah, but who with?" Gerry persisted.

"I don't know!" Brian exclaimed. "She didn't tell us, remember?"

"I'm not senile yet!" Gerry returned. "Though god knows how, working with you all this time!"

Brian stuck his tongue out and rolled his eyes, giving a very accurate impression of how Gerry imagined crazy people to look. The cockney laughed. Never in a million years could he put him and Brian as friends if he hadn't known the man so long. They shared a sense of humour of a sort. They were of a similar age, both far younger than Jack had been at the start of UCOS though they had reached those years now. It had been an instant bonding factor in that they were the two that didn't know Sandra; though had both met Jack variously through the job. They knew that it had been Jack who'd vouched for them to her, even though the softly spoken former DCS had never said as much. They were both fiercely loyal to their families and friends and both liked football. Past that, Brian mused, they didn't really have that much in common.

"You looking forward to it?" Gerry asked.

"To what?" Brian frowned. He wasn't surprised by the distraction; Gerry's attention span was the exact evidence of how variation in focus affected the duration of attention.

"Retirement," Gerry picked up his pen as he spoke and noted down something off the screen in front of him. "What are you going to do all day?"

Brian thought for a moment. He clicked on the search result he felt most helpful and read the first few lines of the article before replying. "What would you do?"

Gerry scoffed. "What do you think? I'd be back to bouncing between the bookies and the boozer!"

"Esther says she wants the bedroom redecorating," Brian smiled at his friend's vices. At least he was honest about them. "There'll probably be another room after that. Then, I don't really know. She'll find something for me to do though. Anything to keep me out from under her feet!"

Gerry knew that there was an element of truth in what his friend said. As much as Esther loved her husband, it was going to be a case of keeping him occupied enough that she didn't feel driven to murder. He grinned. His own retirement seemed less rosy. Would he be like Jack? End up working out his days until he ran out of them? Or find love late on like Sandra? When it eventually became her time, she would have Robert and the girls to fill her days. He hadn't lost it all, had he? He could still make a life with someone, even if just to have some company on the last stretch of the journey. While still musing on the unlikely match his guv'ner had found, he turned his attention back to the notes he was making and they worked in companionable silence until they were interrupted by the entrance of the very man he'd been thinking about.

"Hello Gerry, Brian," Rob Strickland glanced nervously around the room. It had taken him a full half hour since he'd seen her leaving the station through the window in his office to summon the courage to seek out the two men. Thankfully, to his purpose, they appeared to be alone in the office.

"Hello sir, Sandra's just out at the moment," Brian greeted the man. There was something apprehensive in his demeanour. Brian frowned and glanced at Gerry to see his expression mirrored; clearly Sandra's appointment hadn't been with her boss; and he also didn't seem to know about it.

"Good, yes, well," Rob stumbled over his words like a teenager. Though to be fair, it was how he felt a bit like anyway. The thoughts behind his motivation for getting the two men alone certainly made him as nervous as he had been when he'd first asked a girl out at school. "It's you I wanted to talk to actually, both of you."

"Oh?" Brian queried as the younger man's agitation seized his full attention. He looked again to Gerry who had also fixed the DAC with a curious look. "What about?"

"Sandra," Rob responded simply. Then found that his mouth had gone quite dry and he couldn't see exactly how to shape what he wanted to say. It had been the first thing on his mind that morning; today was going to be the day that he asked them. He'd spoken to his children; he'd spoken to Sandra's mother. They were the last people he needed to ask. Well, there was one other. He could have asked them last weekend when they'd been fishing. But he hadn't been able to formulate the right moment then either. No, it was going to be now. And if he could switch off the part of his brain that was causing him to act like a schoolboy called in to the headmaster's office, then maybe he could manage it.

"What about her?" Gerry appealed. He tried to refrain from solving the equation that had formed in his mind; that equation called for serious questioning, if she was ill…

"She cares a lot about you both and I know that you care about her," Rob hoped his voice sounded as calm and collected to them as it did in his head.

"Yeah," Gerry agreed slowly. He glanced at Brian to check that his mate was as much in the dark as he was. "And?"

Rob looked between the two men. Their expressions exposed worry, confusion and apprehension. Oh god, what were they going to think? Before he had a chance to complete the thought that would completely destroy him, the words were out of his mouth: "I want to ask her to marry me."

There wasn't a word to describe the shocked silence that followed his statement. Well, shocked might have done it. Anguished and endless were closer to how Rob experienced it. Gerry went with confusion. "So why are you talking to us?"

"Gerry," Brian let out a breath through his teeth and glared hopelessly at his friend. "Shut up."

Gerry's confusion was not abated by Brian's suddenly enlightened understanding of the DAC's presence in their office and his peculiar designs on their guv'ner. If Strickland wanted to ask Sandra to marry him, why didn't he just do it? She'd say no and this whole silly nonsense could come to an end. He could have his drinking companion back. As he watched Brian observing Strickland however, the grown-up in him began to reason with his ego. If it was all just some fling, how come she'd practically moved into his? How come she'd been to meet his son? Did he really want it to all be some flash-in-the-pan rumpy-pumpy or would he rather believe that somebody was going to love her and look after her? After all, as the tosser (who wasn't really all that much a tosser) had put, they cared about her. They cared a lot about her. But they couldn't love her. He studied the younger man as the silence came to an end, if he did love her, then that wasn't such a bad thing. Brian clearly thought the same, Gerry deduced, as the northerner cleared his throat. The look of terror on Sandra's future fiancée however, that was fantastic.

Brian fixed his eyes on Strickland. He realised what the younger man wanted. And what he was going to give him. He cared a lot about Sandra, and he wanted the best for her as if she was his favourite sister. Strickland had to know that, otherwise he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of asking their permission. The underlying emotion gave his voice a gruff edge as he asked what he needed to.

"Do you promise," he began quietly. "To provide for her, give her everything she needs?"

"Yes," Rob replied readily. He recognised instantly what was happening. There would be conditions. Guarantees. He had to prove that he was as good as his word, good enough for them; for her.

"Do you promise to care for her? Protect her?" Brian continued. They were the same questions that Esther's dad had put to him. He remembered them as if it had been yesterday that he had stood in Robert's shoes.

"Yes."

Brian allowed a pause to grow as he prepared to pose the third and final question. He looked Robert steadily in the eye and tried to ignore the lump growing in his throat as he considered giving his consent.

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

Brian smiled. "Go on then," he repeated the words of Esther's father.

Rob was ready to form a fist and punch through the ceiling, but he only had half the approval he needed. He nodded gratefully at Brian before turning to the other, uncommonly silent, most important man in Sandra's life. "Gerry?"

Gerry looked at both men; Brian had known Sandra as long as he had and possibly better than he did. If he thought that Robert deserved the chance to be with her; and if Robert did love her – he had sounded sincere – then who was he to stand in the way? He looked at the pitiful pleading in the younger man's eyes and grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You have our blessing. But if you ever hurt her…" he left the threat unspoken.

"I wont, I promise," Rob vowed sincerely. He nodded to both of them. "Thank you."

Five miles away, with a little less enthusiasm and a lot less excitement, Sandra thanked the doctor she had been to see. Walking across the small car park she unlocked the car, opened the door and got in without consciously being aware of her movements. In a daze, she started the engine and threw all of her concentration into driving back to the station. Once parked, she switched the engine off and found herself gazing up at the building, her eyes drawn to the window of his office. She had to tell him.

Two months.

Eight weeks.

That was the truth of the matter. Why she'd been feeling awful. Why she'd been being sick. How the hell was she going to tell him?


	28. Dinner at Brian's

_Hehe, thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, here is the next part – enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Dinner At Brian's**

"Can you bring those chairs down from upstairs, please love," Esther called to her husband as she bent down to check on the chicken happily roasting in the oven. It would feed seven, easily.

She looked across to where he sat with his laptop at the dining room table; this would be it soon. Just her, Brian and the dog. Like it had been for the six years before UCOS. Except that it wouldn't be like that at all. For a start, Scampi had replaced Scruffy. Anthony Kaye was gone. And they had friends. As much as she had once tried to explain to Brian that Sandra and Gerry were his colleagues, not his friends; she had never really believed it. Despite a few hiccups, her husband had been very happy and settled in his work at UCOS. And if he was happy, she was happy. They'd grown close to his colleagues and she thought of them as an extended family. Which, she mused as she put the carrots on to boil, was probably how they saw her.

"So he just turned up?" Esther asked, looking around the table. It was the fullest she could remember their dining room ever being and it pleased her to see them. They'd just finished telling her and Steve's girlfriend Charlie about how the new man had arrived in the UCOS offices that morning. She liked Charlie, she'd decided. She and Steve made a lovely couple, both very open and candid with a wicked sense of humour that she enjoyed. It had been a lively evening so far, with plenty of banter and jokes, and an easy feeling.

"Just turned up…" Gerry continued the story, exaggerating slightly Brian and Steve's attempts to turn Nick into their new teasmaid.

Esther watched as Sandra looked at Rob, who smiled. Well, Esther thought to herself, he was a part of Sandra's life now, and that meant that the other members of their peculiar little family were going to have to get used to him. Gerry seemed a little more at ease with the man; Brian had told her about the other man's behaviour as the relationship had began. He didn't like change any more than Brian did. They were more alike than they would admit; these brothers of a sort. They'd be going fishing again; and perhaps they might find some other hobbies to share of a weekend. She was sure they would. If her husband had thought about it yet; retirement was going to hit him like a lorry full of bricks, he would feel quite isolated very suddenly. Like floating away on the piece of ice that breaks off in cartoons; he'd be sat at the dining room table with his laptop watching Sandra and Gerry get further and further away.

"So, what are you going to do with your new found freedom, Brian?" Steve asked. "Go on holiday perhaps?"

Brian grimaced. "What the bloody hell would I do on holiday?"

The others laughed as Esther batted him lightly on the arm. He turned and smiled at his wife. He knew she was worried about him. Retirement was going to be different this time around. Better. Without shadows of past mistakes darkening his thoughts every day. He would try to be a good husband to her; while he still could. And maybe train Scampi not to nick the bacon rind that she threw out for the birds.

"Maybe now's the time to find out, Brian," Rob entered playfully. "Take a good book for an airing and nick the best sun-bed by the pool!"

It was Sandra's turn to bat her partner on the arm as everyone laughed. Esther smiled. They made a good couple, outside of work. Easy with each other and easy to get along with. She only knew what Brian had told her, of course, and what she had gleaned from her own observations. They were good for each other.

"You know, I've not been to Scotland since I was a little girl," she responded to Steve's earlier question. "I'd love to visit the highlands perhaps."

Gerry and Sandra looked at each other and hid their smirks as Brian squirmed in his seat, apparently he could think of nothing worse. Esther watched him shooting the Scottish couple looks of daggers as they engaged in conversation about the best times and places in Scotland to visit. She would make him go on holiday. She had no idea what she'd do with him on holiday, but was sure they could find something.

"Actually, I have just lined up a series of books on church architecture," Brian seized a lull in conversation to distract his wife from ideas of dragging him off to another country (even if it was just up the road) and addressed Robert.

"Well there you go then!" Charlie assumed a point of compromise. "There are some lovely old church buildings in Glasgow. The Adelaide Baptist is beautiful, classical with columns…what?"

Steve's eyebrows were practically leaving his forehead. "Since when did you know about architecture?"

She laughed. "There's a lot of things you don't know that I know about it," she told him cheerfully.

"Not too much I hope!" Steve exclaimed.

"Esther, can I just say, that was delicious," Rob aptly changed the subject as the laughter died down once more. "Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome," she smiled warmly at the newest addition to her table. "Any time. We just wanted to have everyone round to say thank you for everything you've done," she didn't mention their most recent case, though she knew they received her meaning. "Especially for putting up with this one for so long!"

This time no-one interrupted the laughter which continued for longer than it would have if Brian's face hadn't been so astounded at his wife's gall. He joined in eventually, prolonging the happy coda to the meal.

"They seem very well suited," Esther murmured, watching Sandra and Rob leave. She slipped her hand into her husband's as they stood at their front door, watching cars fill and come to life to carry their guests home. She felt the warm pressure as he squeezed her hand, lost in his own thoughts. "I wonder when he's going to ask her?"

"Eh?" Brian pulled himself out of his reverie as he stood watching his friends leave him behind.

"Oh come on," she sighed happily, leaning against him. "He was as nervous tonight as you were the day you asked my dad if you could marry me."

He frowned at his wife. Her insightfulness and instinctive knowledge of human nature was what had saved him so many times and was just one of the reasons he had been to her father to ask for her hand in marriage. Inclining his head slightly, he kissed her lightly.

She smiled. "I wonder when she's going to tell him," she added thoughtfully as she tugged him gently away from the deserted scene and closed the front door.

"Tell him what?" Brian frowned as she disappeared into the house. His question was met only with her re-emerging briefly through the dining room door to throw a tea-towel at him. He took hold of the towel and turned it over in his hands for a moment before repeating his question. "Tell him what?"


	29. The Restaurant Scene

**The Restaurant Scene**

"Go on, your turn," she nudged his leg with her toe under the table.

He looked around for a moment. "Ok… I have never… been to Sweden."

She laughed. "What and you think I have?"

"Er…" he stumbled.

"Just drink," she told him firmly. "Right. I have never…"

"It's not easy, is it?" he teased as she faltered. "Trying to think of something."

"Shut up," she grinned. "Ah! I've got one: I have never lost a bet to Gerry Standing!"

"Oh whatever," he smiled as he reached for his glass. Wincing as he remembered the bet he'd made when fishing with the boys last weekend. And lost. "Anyway, are you sure about that?"

She thought for a moment and frowned at him. "Actually, no I'm not sure!" she laughed and took a sip from her glass of water. They'd decided to go out for dinner that night, give Mia a bit of space and stay at hers. Well, he'd decided they were going to go out, the rest had just sort of fallen into place. She still hadn't figured out even the first notion of how she was going to tell him what she needed to; she'd managed to put it to the side of her mind since returning to the office Friday afternoon, then rushing about getting ready to go to Brian's, then by being at Brian's… basically it was there, at the side of her mind, never being fully brushed away by whichever task or event she consciously focused her concentration on.

"Sandra?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, yes, the mushrooms, thank you."

She savoured the slightly sweet scent coming off the mushroom starter and enjoyed the tangy flavour on her tongue.

"Nice?" Rob raised his fork, pausing before attacking his prawn cocktail. He had absolutely no plan, he realised. He'd spent close to an hour in the jewellers on Friday afternoon choosing the perfect ring. Less than five minutes deciding that he'd take her out on the Saturday night and ask her then. And now here they were sat in the restaurant; and he realised he hadn't given a passing wave to the idea of what he was going to say.

The starters cleared and the mains began; neither were any closer to the crossroads they needed to be at. Perhaps neither of them really wanted to disturb what had been so easy and so relaxed so far. Perhaps when everything had been changing around them so fast, neither of them wanted to disturb what had been their only solid point of certainty. Both were lost in their thoughts; both lost in the previous day's afternoon.

_Would this be an engagement ring, sir?_

_Er..Yes. Yes it would._

_Two months._

_What sort of thing did you have in mind, sir?_

_Er... … … …_

_Nothing specific then, sir?_

_Er.. … … no. Just something… … a ring._

His palms had been sweating. It had felt as though he'd drank seven pints before he'd even got to the point of deciding to go to the shop and then another half a dozen to send him on his way. Usually he'd be on gin and tonics after eight.

_I know that this has come as a shock, Miss Pullman…_

_Does the lady prefer gold or silver?_

_Er.. … she has blue eyes?_

_I think you need to talk to your partner, you do…?_

Yes, of course she did. Well, technically, the doctor hadn't known that for definite so the question had been legit. Even if it had incensed her. Most of the appointment had passed in a blur of words though; jumbled words, all of which she'd heard before and could apply meanings to; but couldn't yet comprehend their link to herself. That was probably why she couldn't figure out how to tell him. She'd barely told herself.

"Are you alright?" he studied her meticulously; she'd matched his own quietude while they'd been eating and, quite unlike Sandra, she had merely been toying with the glass of white wine, favouring instead the water with her meal.

She managed to tear her eyes away from the napkin to the side of her half-eaten plate of curry to realise that concern was etched all over his handsome features. Well, she reasoned, she couldn't lie to him.

"Not really, no," she arranged the cutlery side by side on the plate and pushed it away from her slightly.

He sat patiently. At least that's how it seemed to her. Fear gripped his heart as he waited for her to continue. By the normal rules of conversation, it was his turn to speak; but he had no words. If something was worrying her, he wanted to know, he wanted to help. He knew, the rational part of him did anyway, that she'd had something on her mind for weeks now. The irrational part of him, the part that still acted like his brash and rash fifteen year old self, panicked. And realised that his proposal was potentially about to be sidelined, turned down before he'd put it, before he'd even come up with the words, it was over…

"I'm pregnant," she glanced up at him shyly then returned her gaze to the napkin that had seemed so interesting before. The words echoed in her mind. Simple, to the point. Not assuming, light. The words that were going to ruin everything…

A plethora of emotions took him at once, resulting in a rapid succession of blinks before asking her to repeat what she had just said. Surely she hadn't just said…

"I'm pregnant, well, yeah," she trailed off as she choked on finding anything more to say. She'd known it, if she was honest. Rubbish. It could have been any of a number of things making her throw up. Maybe some far corner of her mind had figured it out while the rest of her cognitive abilities had been giving her more reasonable explanations.

"Are you sure?" he asked carefully. He was split between three chains of heavily firing thoughts; how did she feel? How did he feel? Had she really just said what he'd heard? "I mean, have you taken a test?"

She nodded. She could barely meet his eye. "Six," she said quietly.

He couldn't help but laugh. Even when she fixed her sternest eye upon him; frowning as though she couldn't see the joke.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered at last. He needed to pull himself together, she wasn't laughing with him. "I'm sorry… Six?"

"Yeah," she smiled bashfully. It was pretty funny, she supposed.

"Why six?" he asked. In the filing department of his brain, the little minions were happily finding homes for the scraps of observations and worrying behaviour that he hadn't been able to explain, but now he could.

She shrugged. "I wanted to be sure. I mean, at my age, it might have been, something else," she shuddered, remembering Gerry's joke about 'the Change' (she had heard it). "But I went to the doctors yesterday and he confirmed it."

"Pregnant?" he whispered. Quietly he was beginning to register and respond to the emotions that had hit him like a landslide, he smiled gently as he reached across the table to take her hand.

She nodded, wrapping her fingers around the hand he'd placed on hers. She could meet his eye now, she tried to read his reaction. She wasn't even sure of her own at that moment in time. She couldn't get her head around it. She felt guilty, she'd relied on him so much in the last few weeks; sure she'd repaid some of that when he'd been blaming himself for being a terrible father, but in no way was the debt repaid. And now she was looking to him again, to tell her what to do, what to think, how to feel. He smiled. She wasn't sure that her own reply was as sincere however.


	30. The Bathroom Scene

**The Bathroom Scene**

"Sandra?" he knocked softly on the bathroom door. They'd got back from the restaurant to her house some time ago. At which point she had disappeared into the bathroom while he'd had his ear chewed off by Mia who of course was perfectly fine at the flat and why on earth did he feel the need to interrupt his evening to ring her? He wondered if she knew. She'd asked how the evening had gone… so she probably knew. "Sandra?"

"It's not locked," her voice came quietly from within.

He turned the handle and opened the door, admitted himself and closed it behind him. This was the smallest space they could find themselves in, he thought. Not that Sandra's bathroom was tiny, it was just… bathroom sized. Nowhere to run, or hide. Not that he thought she'd been attempting either such action.

She washed her mouth out in the sink. She was sick of being sick. It didn't make her feel any better. So what was the point of it? She wasn't sure she could stand it for much longer if it was to continue, but what was the alternative? She looked to Robert with terrored eyes.

He offered her a small smile; reassurance, love, acceptance. She was lost in a maze of unknowing, possibilities opening and closing at every turn she didn't take. Longing to be able to peer over the tops of the hedges and see where she was meant to end up, but no-one ever knows that, do they? The hiding was over now; she knew that. It was a relief, in some ways, to actually know. In others it just made everything worse.

"Sandra," he tentatively held out his hand toward her, needing for her to make tactile contact. He knew that she was fighting against appearing weak. He'd seen her at her lowest when Jack died, when she'd told him that Brian was leaving, when she thought she wasn't good enough. For Sandra Pullman to admit weakness, to show weakness, to need; she hated it and he knew it. She'd be trying to lock him out now, trying to pretend that she could cope with anything. She didn't take his hand. He didn't move it. He took a breath. "I know you're scared. Scared of what this means. For you, your career, for us. I don't know if this was something you ever wanted; maybe, you never thought this would happen for you, or that it would happen when you were younger, or not at all. If you're scared that having this baby means that you have to give up everything you've striven for at work, it doesn't. If you're scared that it means you have to stay with me, it doesn't. It doesn't have to be like that. But whatever it is you're scared of… I think you want this baby. And if it's me, if you want me to go, I'll go – "

"Don't go," she whispered immediately, interrupting anything further he might have said and finally reaching for his hand. Her cool fingers slipped easily between his and exerted a particular pressure. "Please. I don't want you to go." She looked at him with pure honesty. He'd read her perfectly. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve him, but whatever it was… she owed it a drink. The very thought that he'd think she wanted him to go chilled her to the bone. She didn't want him to go. "I love you Rob, and god only knows what I've done to deserve you in my life. Let alone… You're right. I do want this baby," she admitted softly. "But I'm not scared. I'm terrified."

He pulled her toward him in one soft, sweeping movement and enveloped her in his embrace. She leant into his warmth and hid in his strength. The moment grew comfortably. The boiler whirred into a boost of life for a few minutes. The magic began to take hold. They were having a baby.

"Sandra?" he asked quietly, his hand running across her shoulder blades, tempting her to lean back and see his questioning face.

"Mmm?" she queried.

"Will you marry me?"

Her lips opened a fraction but no words came out.

"I was going to ask you in the restaurant," he admitted. "But your bathroom seems like a much more appropriate place."

She smiled and buried herself back into his chest. "Yes," she murmured as his breath moved steadily through her hair. "Yes. But," she muttered as she moved again. "I need to brush my teeth."

He laughed as she drew away. "I don't think that's a bad pre-requisite for marriage."

"Nuh," she stuck her tongue out at him as she picked her toothbrush out of the rack. She glanced back at him, he was still grinning. She bit her lip and shook her head, the clown-like beam plastered on her face shone back at her in the mirror's reflection as she squeezed toothpaste onto the brush and ran the tap.

Realising as she completed her task that he was still in the room with her, she replaced the brush in it's place and looked at him. "So, I know that this room is always going to have a special place in my memory of this night," she couldn't help her lips twitching and widening her smile a little more. "But are we really going to spend the rest of the night in here?"


	31. Reactions

_Hiya, I'm going to admit defeat here: I was hoping to get this fic finished before I went away, but it's not going to be possible in the four days I have left! So, with a promise that I shall be back in September to continue, thank you for reading and reviewing and please enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Reactions**

Rob rolled over in an unfamiliar bed the following morning and frowned for a moment. Then he remembered where he was and the events of the previous evening and smiled. Turning to his side he watched as his fiancée moved peacefully between sleeping and waking.

"Morning," he murmured softly.

"Morning," she replied with a small yawn. She shifted onto her side to match him and greeted him with a kiss. As she gently caressed his cheek with the fingers of her right hand she caught sight of something glittering on the pillow between them. Her brow creased briefly as she glanced down before remembering the details of the night before. She smiled happily as the tiny topaz and sapphire stones twinkled under the rays of sunshine just breaking through the curtains.

He followed her line of sight and caught a sigh in his throat. The white gold band inset with little blue details had looked fantastic in the shop when the jeweller had delved into his special drawer and presented it to him; it had looked pretty darn good the presentation box; but now, on the ring finger of his fiancée's left hand, it looked perfect. It might not have been the most conventional choice; it wasn't either the cheapest or most expensive option; but it was definitely the right one. The swell of warmth and love that he'd felt as she'd accepted his proposal and clung to his embrace had reinforced all the promises that he had made to Brian and Gerry; he would provide for her, care for her, protect her and love her until his dying day.

"Coffee?" she broke the spell with her question.

"Mmm," he agreed, kissing the hand that was still on his cheek. "I'll make it."

"Alright," she smiled and pushed him playfully on the chest. "Go on!"

She laughed as he pulled a face and got out of bed. He pulled his boxers on and slipped last night's shirt over his torso, leant down to kiss her on the lips; then left the room. She waited a moment before throwing the covers off and swinging her legs out of the bed. The house was warm this morning; not like the last time she'd woken up there. Debating briefly if it was due to having set the heating to come on or because there was another presence to share it with, she opened her wardrobe and found that her dressing gown was at Rob's. She padded out of the room and called over the banister, "I'm just gonna jump in the shower."

By the time she'd showered and dressed in her old light blue jeans; teaming them with a white camisole and shirt; and gone downstairs she found him plating up two breakfasts of bacon and scrambled eggs. The radio was on, quietly giving them the morning news. He looked up as she walked over to him. He was sure he fell in love with her a little deeper every moment he was with her; he put the frying pan back down on the side and accepted her arms around him. It was a freedom they didn't often have; but that made it all the more special when they did.

"It's odd without Mia and Bella, isn't it?" she asked tenderly. "So quiet… kinda empty, like something's missing. Well, they are!"

He ran his hands along her sides as she laughed softly and nodded.

"It's never going to be quiet again, is it?" she looked into his eyes. Her life had been so quiet. Her home, empty. That was over now. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't reach the brakes, but that was ok, because she didn't want it to be quiet again.

He shook his head. "No, 'fraid not," he replied gently.

"Good," she smiled and leaned into him. "Good."

After breakfast, they left her house once again. It would be going on the market soon. Rob's flat they would keep on and rent out. Sandra had instantly turned down the idea of them moving into hers; it wasn't a family home and never would be for her. They would find somewhere with a garden where they could watch their child and their granddaughter play and grow; close enough to work and college but homely enough that it could be their haven. There would be a spare room for Rufus if he ever wanted to stay (though Rob sadly doubted it); and a space in the living room for the sofa from Rob's flat to move with them.

"Hiya love," Rob greeted his daughter as he held the door for Sandra before closing it and dropping his keys in their accustomed place. "You alright?"

"I am," Mia said, checking on Bella and putting her book to one side before kneeling on the sofa to see them better. "Are you? Did you have a nice evening?"

"Yes, thank you," Rob winked at Sandra as he put their overnight bag on the table and walked round to the centre of the living area, kneeling down to greet his granddaughter. "Hiya Bella, did you miss us last night?"

Bella promptly glanced at her mum, then back at her Grandpops and stuck her tongue out. Mia hid a smirk while Rob fussed over the baby.

"Nice meal?" Mia asked innocently.

Rob raised his eyebrows at Sandra behind his daughter's back as she held back laughter. "Yes, thank you Mia. I had mushrooms and curry, your dad had prawn cocktail and steak."

Mia momentarily wondered if she might burst from anticipation. She couldn't see the ring. Yet she knew, it had to be there. Her dad would have come back alone otherwise. And that, she couldn't very well have foreseen happening. She might have been wrong, of course, and he might not have done it last night. But she was fairly sure he'd been going to. "Any pudding?"

"No, no pudding," Rob relaxed against the base of the armchair as Sandra perched on the arm.

"But you had a nice time?" Mia persisted.

"Yes, lovely. Thank you," Sandra responded. "You haven't any work to do this afternoon have you? It's just your dad thought we could go out to lunch."

"Have you taken against cooking or something, Dad?" she asked brightly.

"I just thought it would be nice. As a celebratory sort of thing…" Rob questioned Sandra with a subtle glance and read her reply in an instant. "Mia, Bella, there's something we need to talk to you about."

Mia's eyes widened unpleasantly at the tone her dad's voice had taken. He sounded serious. Perhaps they were breaking up after all. Maybe she'd gotten it all wrong. Had Sandra said no? Was there some other reason? She knew their relationship had been going well, and quickly. Perhaps it had been a mid-life crisis all along. She watched as her dad picked up Bella and steadied the baby on his thigh, so that he could address both of them.

"We were talking last night, and we thought maybe it was time that we all looked for a new house together? Somewhere bigger, with a garden maybe?"

_I'm on the same page as you, kid,_ Mia thought as she observed her daughter blinking at the words, not understanding their meanings or intentions, yet. "Yeah?" she responded uncertainly.

"Bella can have her own room then," Rob continued. "And you can have yours. They'd be one for Rufs if he comes to visit. One for me and your Nana," he tickled Bella's chin. "And a nursery too."

"Dad, I think it's a great idea," Mia said frowning. "But why sound so serious about it? Hang on, did you just say a nursery? As in, a nursery? As in…" she looked between her father and Sandra. "As in…"

Sandra bit her lip and nodded.

"As in…" Mia practically whispered.

"Sandra's pregnant," Rob filled in for the benefit of the inarticulatory bug that seemed to have bitten all his girls. Well, perhaps Bella could be excused for the time being. He felt the tears welling in his eyes as he watched Mia practically bound off the sofa and hug Sandra. "You're going to be a niece," he told Bella softly, hugging the baby gently.

Sandra smiled as Mia drew away. "There's something else, too," she said quietly wondering if she would be able to complete her sentence without bursting into tears that two months ago she would never have known. "Your dad asked me to marry him. And I said yes." She was prepared for the reaction this time, and as the young girl happily threw her arms around her once more, she let the tears that she could see mirrored in her fiancée's eyes escape.

"I can't believe you actually said yes!" Gerry expounded watching Steve and Nick turn away from the bar and choose a direction opposite to their table. "Where are they off?" he inquired of Brian as the oldest member of the team returned to the table.

It was Monday night again, Boys Night, as Sandra had promised them it would stay for the foreseeable future. She'd told them about the engagement at lunchtime; she had regretted it slightly as Gerry hadn't exactly shut up about it since then. She'd promptly sent him back out of the office with Nick while Brian had spent the afternoon bringing Steve up to speed with the spreadsheets and systems that he'd put in place several years ago for doing the yearly audit. She hadn't told them about the baby yet. They'd agreed that while Mia and Bella could know; no-one else would be told until the traditional three-month veil had lifted. Added to which, she had been decidedly apprehensive about introducing one life-changing piece of news to them, two didn't bear thinking about.

"Pool," Brian told Gerry, taking a sip of his drink. It was his last Monday. His last 'Boy's Night'. He tried not to think about it like that though. Tomorrow would be his last Tuesday.

"You knew, though," Sandra said curiously. "You knew he was going to ask me, didn't you?"

Gerry squirmed in his seat before reluctantly admitting to what she already knew. "Yeah, yeah, he asked us."

She'd heard the story from Rob; he'd not told her exactly what was said, only that he'd been to see her two friends. Because, as he'd put it, it was the right thing to do. It felt almost taboo to be asking them now, as if gently prising at the lid of a new tin of biscuits before finishing the last. But it was the most curious thing in the world, what he'd asked of them, what they'd said.

"He came down to the office, when you were out on Friday," Brian added, looking to Gerry to make sure that he was sworn too to the sacred trust of the conversation they'd had with her fiancée.

"Yeah, came and asked us like we were your dads or something," Gerry scoffed into his pint.

She smiled. She knew they weren't going to tell her. And she realised, she didn't need to know. It was enough that the conversation had happened. That, however it had come about, they had given their blessing. "More like my big brothers," she corrected gently. "No, I mean it. You always look out for me; even when I don't want you to. You always stick up for me; even though I don't need you to. And none of us are that good at saying what it means to have each other."

She smiled shyly. Gerry was the rash, impetuous brother who'd thump first and ask questions later. He'd throw advice that she hadn't asked for at her. But he'd always be there. Brian, the thinker. The one who'd quietly try to put things right without alerting the temper of their brother. He was the oldest now. Slowly fading into the background, but always there. "I wanted to ask," she began timidly. "At the wedding. Brian, Gerry. Will you give me away?"

A moment of silence passed where neither man could master his emotions quite well enough to do more than nod in response to her request. After a time, Brian raised his glass. He cleared his throat as he looked between his two friends; his brother, impulsive and devote; his sister, vulnerable and caring. "To family," he toasted delicately. "Brothers and sister."


	32. Brian's Last Friday

_Hello! It's good to be back in the UK. Got a lot of catching up to do with the new series and a lot of reading to do as it looks like everyone's been busy writing away! I'm being kept busy moving and decorating but am determined to try and keep regularly online. Here, for now, is the next part of __Just This__ – enjoy! Jessie xx_

**Brian's Last Friday**

"Do you have to go away?" she moaned, snuggling closer to him in the bed. It was Friday morning, Rob was due to leave straight from work for a weekend symposium in Brighton.

"It's only for two days," he laughed, stroking her hair. If he was honest, he didn't want to go either. It meant two days away from his family; despite the lengthy period of time when he had been on his own following his separation from Helen, he now found that any time away from his home-life to be an inconvenience.

"And two nights," she complained. She found herself increasingly attached to the life she had found and didn't relish not having him around for two whole empty days and nights. Not that the days would be empty, she had Bella and Mia for company; but the nights…

He laughed again. "You can manage two days and two nights without me, surely? Mia can cook."

She looked up at him. "I'm not incapable of feeding myself," she grumbled. "I didn't get by for forty-eight years without learning how to use a toaster."

He sighed and reluctantly pulled out of her hold. "Have I forgotten your birthday or something?" he asked sternly.

"What? No," she sat up in the bed, studying his face as he watched her.

"Then why is age so important? It's coming up a lot at the moment."

"No it's not," she denied.

"Last night," he corrected her. "We spent ten minutes at least discussing age and what it means. It doesn't matter. You of all people should know that."

"What because I spend my day with older men?" she laughed humourlessly. "It's pretty much how I started my career too."

He left his side of the conversation unsaid, waiting for her to fill it in for herself. They had spent the night previous discussing various things to do with the wedding, the move and the baby; and he was right, age had come up as a factor in the conversation more than once.

"No. It doesn't matter. And I do know that. No. It's just something the doctor said last week," she sighed. "He said that I should talk to my partner about continuing the pregnancy. Because of the heightened risks with being an 'elderly _prima gravida.'_ He just made me feel old._"_

He shifted to sit beside her and lifted his arm. She nestled her head against his shoulder and allowed him to pull her legs over his lap. Leaning back against the headboard, he held her closely to him with one hand resting on her waist. "I think we need to find you a new doctor," he said.

"So, you're mother for the weekend then?"

"What?" Sandra flicked her head so fast that she thought for a second she'd given herself whiplash as she reacted to Gerry's insinuation. With three more weeks in which to think of how to tell the boys, she started racking her brain for the moment she'd let it slip. And if she had, she'd lost the bet that she and Rob had made; which meant she had to cook dinner for a week.

"You, looking after the family for the weekend, while Strickland's away," he elaborated as they left the office on the way to see a suspect while Steve and Brian showed Nick how to access the numerous databases that they used in their work.

"Oh, yeah, right," she murmured, looking in her bag. "Where are my keys?"

"Unless there's something you're not telling us?" he teased. "Come to think of it, your boobs do look bigger. Is there something you want to…"

"Shut up Gerry," she said flatly and led the way up the stairs.

"I only asked her!" Gerry expounded later as he whined to Brian. The UCOS office had felt rather crowded these last few days but now, watching his friend and colleague of the last ten years pack his personal belongings into a cardboard box, the weight of the reasons why were hitting hard. "And she didn't say no…"

"She didn't say yes either," Brian noted sagely. He placed his stapler deliberately next to the box of spare staples, wondering briefly when he was going to use them again. "And besides, you didn't exactly ask her did you? Just told her that her boobs looked big."

"Yeah, and?"

"In my experience, Gerry, women don't take kindly to observations on their physical appearance. Particularly observations of things getting larger."

Gerry snorted. "Yeah, s'pose so. Come to think of it, the time I told Carol that her bum did look massive in the dress she was wearing… well let's just say I can still hear the slap now!"

Brian laughed and looked about his former workstation. There wasn't anything left of him there now except for memories. Good memories. Happy memories. He looked back at the box on his desk, it was all in there. Systematically packed. Organised. Finished.

"Come on then," Gerry said quietly as the reality of the moment they were in began to sink in. He wasn't any good at goodbyes. "Stick your bloody bike in my car for the last time and we'll get to the pub."

"Yeah," Brian murmured with the air of a man who has something to say but with great uncertainty.

"You alright mate? What is it?"

Brian turned and looked at him. Suddenly he felt very much the older brother; this was the last time they would be alone together. As soon as they got to the pub there would be Sandra and Steve and a thousand uninterested ears all around them. This was the private last moment. He didn't have any advice to impart, any secrets left to tell; and he refused to say goodbye. Gerry would be the last man standing from the first days of UCOS. He would be Sandra's certainty now. Sandra, their boss, their sister. Sandra, the one he was thinking of as he realised what he needed to say. "You will try to get along with him, won't you?"

"Who? Nick? Yeah, he's alright innit?" Gerry said quickly before he realised what Brian was getting at. "You mean Strickland don't you?"

Brian nodded.

"Brian, you know when you asked him those things? You asked if he loved her. You never asked if she loved him," Gerry had been pondering this particular conundrum for several days. It still boggled his mind that Brian had come out with such considered and pertinent questions. It still boggled his mind that Sandra was actually seeing the DAC. Let alone that the tosser wanted to marry her. His mind had turned to wondering what treatment he would give any potential suitors to his daughters; then it had shuddered at the thought.

"Didn't need to," Brian said plainly handing Gerry the cardboard box. Sighing as his former colleague looked patiently for more elucidation he continued. "You know she does. Whatever we think of him, she loves him."

"Yeah, s'pose so," Gerry agreed. "He's alright really, isn't he?"

"For a tosser," Brian returned, deliberately emphasising the well-rehearsed view that all DACs are tossers and reminding Gerry in three words of all the times they shared the same jokes, the same humour. They were old bill at the end of the day, both of them, however different personality wise they were.

Gerry laughed softly and took the box from Brian's desk while Brian pulled his bike from it's corner. The space looked so empty now. He glanced towards his own new area by Sandra's office. He was the old boy now. He'd started out the youngest, the one that she hadn't wanted. Now he was the one who would be filling Jack's shoes. He knew it. It wasn't a case of replacing Jack; but he was going to be the one that had to hold her back at the right moments, talk her down when she needed to be, be the bad guy when the other two misbehaved. He remembered his promise to Jack; a promise that the old sod had made for him, but that he'd made himself the moment he'd read the words in Jack's letter to him. He would look after them still, whatever happened. He was the man of the office. He looked around and caught sight of the cake tin on the side. Nick had moved in now. His partner had sent him to the office that morning with a tin of home-made biscuits as a first week/Brian's last day treat. He'd gotten on alright with the newbie so far. But he'd never replace Brian. "Do you fancy going fishing Sunday?"

Brian looked at his friend curiously. "Aye, why not," he replied. He allowed himself one last survey of their office. Sandra's private area, closed off as she'd stepped out earlier for some meeting or other promising to meet them at the pub, almost tidy for her from what he could see; Jack's desk now bearing Gerry's trademark mess; Nick's desk, oddly neat; the never-that-tidy Tidy table; the kitchenette where his mug no longer sat; Steve's chair and the coffee table facing the case board. UCOS had been his saviour, his home, his purpose; but his part in that story had come to an end. He'd always been a copper. He'd always be a copper. But now he had to be a husband. If he was a proud man he'd curse that it wasn't a more auspicious ending; if he were a bitter man he'd be enraged that it was something that he couldn't even see that was causing him to leave the job he loved. But Brian 'Memory' Lane was neither of these things. It was time, as it would always have been. No longer was he now following his colleague out of the office, but his friend. And that was a chapter that would never close. "Come on then," he added lightly. "Pub."


End file.
